Secrets Of The Night
by UndressTheseBeautifulLies
Summary: "I've seen you before, you know," She had been silent from that day forward, but what did John Bender know about Allison's life outside of the classroom? Multi-chap Allison/Bender
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:**

**I know that Allison actually walked into the classroom last, but in this, I needed her to be first. I hope you like it. :) It's my first attempt at a multi-chapter, so be nice! ;)**

Allison walked into detention that fateful Saturday morning with one thing on her mind - her newest drawing. Her father disapproved of her hobby, and her mother always backed him, though when she was younger, Allison remembers having her drawings pinned all over the house. So detention was her one escape. Although Allison was ignored at home, whenever she got a pencil out, her dad seemed to magically notice her, and take the pencil away, along with her other art supplies.

Kids in school were under the impression that she didn't talk, and that was fine by her, though it irritated her that they didn't even try to engage with her. She had never refused to speak to someone - it's just that no-one bothered. It had now become habit and someone even looking in her direction made her squirm. This Saturday should be no different - a safe haven for Allison to draw in. Hear the speech about being a delinquent, knowing your place, you sit around for a while, listen into the other kid's conversations, make a mental note of their weaknesses, just in case, have your lunch, and then you wait to be dismissed, where Allison's own private hell waited for her at home.

Allison sat in her normal space, and watched the other kids around her. She had been going to detention on and off for about two months now, and she thought she'd seen it all. She had never seen anyone there who knew who she was, and she liked it that way. Usually it was the younger kids who got Saturday detention. So when four other kids from her year strolled in one by one, Allison's heart rate began to pick up.

She forced her face to remain blank and expressionless while she scoped the situation. None of these kids knew her, she thought, quietly taking off her bag and making herself as small as possible in her warm coat. She watches the next event unfold, the kids taking their own places.

_Great, _she thinks, _that Bender kid is here. I'll probably be the one he decides to torture. _Allison sighs and keeps quiet still, looking down at her desk and concentrating on the lines drawn on the table by other kids here before her.

A redhead took her seat at the front, slipping off her gloves and jacket, and drumming her fingers on the table. One of the popular jocks ambled in next, shaking his head and making noises of irritation. Allison resisted the urge to roll her eyes - he was in detention, not prison. He should just shut up and get over it.

Next through the door was a geeky looking kid. Allison had seen him in the cafeteria with his friends. He seemed nice enough, she supposed, if not a little annoying when he stuttered and stumbled over his words like a child would. Not that she had the upper-hand when it came to being perfectly eloquent, she reminded herself, shaking her head minutely at her own ignorance.

Finally, Vernon stalks into the room, his face a picture of disdain, and stands, hands on his hips, in front of the group of teenagers.

"Well, well, here we are. I want to congratulate you for being on time."

"Excuse me, sir," the redhead pipes up, "I think there's been a mistake. I know it's detention but I don't think I belong here." Allison again resists the urge to roll her eyes at her entitlement.

"It is now 7:06. You have exactly eight hours and fifty four minutes to think about _why_ you are here - to ponder the error of your ways. You will not talk...you will not move, from these seats. And _you," _he says, pulling the chair out from Bender's legs, "will not sleep!"

He continues on, "All right people, we're going to try something a little different today. We are going to write... an essay... of not less than a thousand words... describing to me who you think you are. And when I say 'essay', I mean 'essay',_ not_ one word repeated a thousand times. Is that clear, Mr. Bender?"

"Crystal," Bender replies, not bothering to look up. Allison wonders why she ever chose to come to detention today. She was sure it would be the worst yet and it hadn't even started. Usually, this place was her _haven. _Now people she vaguely knew had invaded it. Allison didn't react to any of the happenings around her. Once more, she decided that ignoring it would make it go away.

"Good. You might learn a thing or two about yourself. You might even decide whether or not you'd care to return." At this, the geeky looking kid stood, shaking his head.

"Excuse me sir, I can answer that right now. That'd be no."

"Sit down, Johnson."

"Thank you, sir."

Allison kept her head turned and suppressed a giggle. Maybe _he _wouldn't be so bad. The princess would be, though, she was sure, ditto with Bender.

"My office is right across that hall. Any monkey business is ill-advised. Any questions?" Vernon finally asks, and Allison breathes out. He was finally leaving.

That was true, until Bender nodded his head. "Yeah. I got a question. Does Barry Manilow know you raid his wardrobe?"

"You'll get the answer to that, Mr Bender, next Saturday."

Breathing a sigh of release as Vernon exited, Allison found herself chewing her nail, a nervous habit she'd never been able to break since childhood. She flicked her hair out of her eyes and caught herself being stared at by four other students, all open mouthed. Choosing to ignore them, her anxiety grew, and so she continued to chew on her thumbnail, her heart pounding at the attention.

"If you keep eating your hand, you won't be hungry for lunch," Bender says, and Allison feels the anger rising inside of her. How dare he?

Allison's temper gets the better of her, and glaring at him, she spits a bitten nail in his direction, and turns away. "I've seen you before, you know." Bender says.

And that's when Allison begins to remember that day, months ago, that she swore she'd never talk about again.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:**

**I'm glad there is some interest in this story, and so here's the next chapter...please tell me what you think about the story in a review or a PM, it makes me sad to know there are people following/favoriting but not telling me what they think. :) **

**Yes, this one ended on a kind of cliff-hanger, too. :P**

It was late on a Thursday afternoon, and Allison was laying on her bed, her Walkman in her ears. Her newest painting hadn't gone so well, and she sighed at the mess of paint and water in front of her. It was only as she took one final glance over her "masterpiece" that she saw the paint stain in cream carpet. Biting her lip, Allison tried to clear it up with one of her painting rags, which only seemed to smear the stain, making it look even worse, if possible.

Her mother would be furious, and her father would be livid. Allison and her parents weren't getting along as it were - she was failing English and scraping Cs in math, and her artwork, the one thing that kept her sane, was being threatened to be taken away if she didn't clean up her act. Now it wasn't only her act she would have to clean, it was her carpet. Her father said one more thing that upset her mother and all of it was gone, thrown away, and Allison's mother felt prouder of their six bedroom house than she was of Allison.

Briefly, she wondered if she could just hide the stain, and then she wouldn't get in trouble. Unfortunately, tomorrow was Friday, laundry day, and since Allison's mother thought she was still too young to know what needed washing, her mother always scalped her room for any laundry. Allison knew she was being checked up on, and it never really bothered her. But tomorrow, the stain would be found, and all her hard work, all her drawings and paints and precious art supplies that she'd worked so hard babysitting for would be lost, and she'd have to start all over.

Sighing once again, Allison decided to come clean. It was always best that way, she found, even if it was painful at first. Her mother would sigh and say, "Really, Allison." And then launch into a personal attack, which usually resulted in Allison being banished to her room. Setting her easel to one side, and putting her paints away painfully slowly, Allison finally stood and went downstairs, where she faced her mother making dinner.

Her mother smiled that dazzlingly fake smile and nodded at her daughter. "Hello, dear," she said, as pleasantly as she could manage. The word _dear _still seemed to leave a bad taste in her mother's mouth, though, by the sour face she pulled seconds afterwards.

"Mom, I accidentally spilled paint on the carpet."

The knife that Mrs Reynolds was using to chop carrots stayed poised in the air, and she sucked in a sharp breath. Slamming the knife down so that a chunk of carrot flew across the kitchen tiles, Allison's mother shook her head and huffed in irritation. "Again?"

"Yes," Allison said, faintly irritated. Obviously it was again, she wasn't telling her from the last time, now was she? "Again." Pushing past her daughter, Mrs Reynolds stepped up the stairs, treading lightly on her sensible kitten heels. Allison heard the door open and she sighed, following her mother as she heard the shriek.

"This room is a _disgrace! _We give you everything you could possibly want, and you repay us like this? You dress like a druggie and you keep that hair like a mop, and not to mention your paintings! They're not even good; you can't draw to save your life. This simply isn't good enough. Your grades are slipping and quite frankly, young lady, I've had quite enough of your drama. This is the final straw. Why can't you be more like me? Don't you want to have a good life?"

Something snapped in Allison. She never usually talked back; indeed she had learned very early on that pretending to listen was the best way forward. But on that day, something changed. Allison glared at her mother.

"I just don't want to end up like _you." _

While Allison didn't know what punishment her mother would come up with next, she assumed it would be asking her father, and he would gather her art supplies up, and make her watch them being thrown in the trash, while he went over the morals of being a good student, and not upsetting her mother. This time, though, it was different. Her mother seized a handful of clothes from Allison's closet, all the things that she never wore, as luck would have it, and threw them into a holdall. Zipping the bag, throwing it into Allison's skinny arms, and then pulling Allison down the stairs by her shoulders, all the while screaming for Mr Reynolds to get up there.

Mr Reynolds' face didn't change as he saw his wife throwing his daughter onto the street, nor did he try and stop it. "That's it, Allison. I've had enough. Maybe life on the streets will make you realize how lucky you really are. Don't come back until you do."

Not quite believing her ears, Allison slowly turned down the street, clutching her holdall with both hands, and trying not to let the hot, angry tears spill down her chalky white cheeks. Turning at the closest corner, she walked into an empty alley, put her back to the brick wall, and slid down it, finally letting the tears seep out of her closed eyelids.

Allison didn't know where she was going to go, or what she was going to do. She didn't have much time to think, as it turns out. When she opened her red, bloodshot eyes, a face leered above her.

"Fresh meat.." he thought aloud, and Allison struggled while he pulled her sleeve back. "Not even a scratch on you, let alone any track marks. We'll have some fun with this one, John..."


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **

**So this one is kinda from Bender's POV, though it's in third person. That's why Allison is referred to as "the girl". This one isn't really as good as the last one, but..**

**Also, this was written on my kindle, so if there are any mistakes, my apologies! :)**

John Bender had never really considered the feelings of others - he had spent too much time looking out for himself, and rightly so, as his home was like a constant war zone, and teachers always had it out for him. So that one night, that one night where he actually stopped to think about someone else's feelings, that took him off guard.

Leaning against the wall, dragging on his cigarette, Bender sighed impatiently. He was getting bored; there were no drugs, no alcohol, and only one half burnt out cigarette dangling from his lips. No entertaining fights had ensued tonight, and his friend, Kyle, was always so out of it that having a decent conversation with him was less likely than Jesus Christ resurrecting once again and standing in front of them both in this filthy, rat ridden alley.

And so when a disoriented girl, dressed entirely in black, from the hoodie over the mop of raven hair, right down to her black Chuck Taylors, stumbled into the alley, Bender thinks his night got a whole lot more interesting. He watches with a piqued interest as she slides her back down the wall, and sits on the floor, her hands covering her eyes in despair. The girl rests her head against the brick, and he sees silent tears glistening on her pale cheeks, though she doesn't make a sound.

John doesn't move, instead opting to merely observe in an almost stunned silence. How can this girl be so oblivious to the dangers around her? Her naivety faintly irritates him; why had he had to learn the hard way to look out for himself when this girl walked down strange streets alone, at night? Some things just did not make sense, and in John's mind, this was one of those things. Pushing down that first sense of annoyance, Bender throws his cigarette onto the floor and is about to step forward, tell her how unbelievably _stupid _she's being, when Kyle steps in front of him.

He silently stalks over to the girl's small form, and leers over her. Bender ignores the uncomfortable feeling he felt in the pit of his stomach, and lets the situation unfold before deciding the best course of action. While something inside of him yearned to help the girl, his sense of self preservation was now at an all time high - last week's home beating really slapped some sense into him, as it was intended to do, and he waited, watching once again.

The girl's eyes finally snap open, and she jumped.

"Fresh meat.." he thought aloud, and the girl struggled while he pulled back her sleeve. "Not even a scratch on you, let alone any track marks. We'll have some fun with this one, John.."

Bender sees her eyes flicker to the shadows where he stood, and recognition flashed in her brown irises as she scanned his face. Indeed, he recognized her, too, to an extent. She went to school with him, and she was from the rich neighborhood. He'd seen her walking to school, walking out of her perfect front door, looking so out of place that he immediately formed a bad opinion of her. The fact that she dressed like that, like she had nothing in this world but the clothes she wore on her back and the notepad and pencil she carried irritated him greatly.

He had nothing and in his mind, she had everything, but she was a spoiled rich kid, and she didn't deserve his sympathy. He sneered at her, all the protectiveness he once held for her gone in the blink of an eye.

"Nah," Bender says, shaking his head, tearing his eyes away from hers. "You have her."

He almost feels bad as her eyes blaze with fear, rounded and wide, and her mouth parts in protest, but no words are spoken, and stay stuck in her throat. And then he remembers, what rich kids are like. They don't help you when you need it. They spit on you, and kick you when you're down.

Turning his back on the both of them, Bender walks out of the alley, a lingering trace of guilt settling in his stomach and a general feeling of unease washing over him. This wasn't unusual, however. In his home, you were on a constant state of alert, or you would get hurt. This is what he told himself, at least; as he tried desperately to convince himself that this was true, he heard a distant squeak.

By this time, he was already some distance away, having walked quickly to escape the knots forming in his empty stomach. Groaning and kicking a can on the sidewalk violently away, Bender began to jog back to the alley, his wallet chain jingling in the back pocket of his worn out jeans.

When he eventually made it back to the disgusting alleyway, he almost didn't want to step through it, inwardly cringing about what he would find there. Rolling his eyes at himself, he put one foot into the dark alley, followed by the other a short moment later. Soon, he was faced by the scene he'd been dreading. Kyle still leered over the girl unpleasantly, laughing in her face. Her black hoodie lay next to her, her shirt ripped, leaving her bare back exposed to the cold brick she was pressed against.

Her black skinny jeans remained on her legs, and her shoes were still on her feet. Bender reached one hand forward, and pulling Kyle's filthy shirt collar, he pulled the boy away from her, leaving her still looking terrified.

"The hell, man?" Kyle says, spitting in Bender's direction. Bender spits back and pulls the girl up. He leads her away, out of the alley, tugging on her arm impatiently.

"Keep walking," Bender mutters. It was going to be a _long _night.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: **

**No, I haven't given up on this story! I have just been a busy girl with school and such. But it's a stormy Thursday afternoon, so I thought I'd try and get this chapter written. I'm sorry for the wait and I really hope you like it. The next chapter will really be the start of something.. (;**

**~ Caitlin**

* * *

Allison didn't know whether she should scream and run away or kiss the boy who was pulling her away from that monster who'd been leaning over her a few moments previously. Instead, she simply remained passive and let him pull her along, her bag scraping on the floor behind her, her head pounding in a steady rhythm along with her heart.

"What are you doing out so late?" Bender says, and then he snorts, mainly to himself. He sounds like a father and yet he doesn't know how - his own has never said such caring words to him. Allison shrugs, and pulls her arm away from him, breathing in deeply. Bender watches with interest as Allison tries to gather her thoughts into a coherent sentence, failing miserably and then trying to compose herself enough to stop the tears from escaping from her eyes.

Why couldn't anyone ever _like _her? Even as a little girl, people had thought her strange. Other kids wouldn't play with her at recess and she'd been okay with that. In high school, she didn't have any friends so to speak of, and she spent her time drawing. While it was a little lonely at times, she survived and was okay with it. But tonight's activities had wiped her out completely, and every bad thought about herself that had ever crossed her mind now piled up and hit her at full force, knocking the breath out of her.

A hand in front of her face brought her out of her dark thoughts, and she sighed sadly, her eyes trailing to Bender's gaze. He did not smile at her, but he didn't seem scary. Allison looked at him blankly, and she wondered what on earth was going through his head at that moment.

Bender wondered the same thing about the strange girl standing beside him. She didn't appear to be particularly scared, and her eyes blinked up at him curiously, and that made him wary. He was realizing a little too late that perhaps she wasn't like all the other rich kids he'd encountered over the years. For while she was pulling her arm away from his grip, he knew this was simply through not liking contact - a trait that he shared - as he could tell by the grimace on her face. And while he didn't want to admit it, he wanted to pull the broken girl into his arms and tell her that he shouldn't have left her in that alley, all the while knowing he never would do such a thing. For now, he bargained with himself, her name would do.

"What's your name?" He tries again, not knowing whether she would answer or not. Allison herself toys with the idea of answering. She wasn't sure of this boy - nor his intentions, be them good or bad.

Choosing to answer in a whisper, Allison breathes out her name. "Allison,"

"Allison." Bender says, shaking his head. "More like Alley-cat." Allison doesn't laugh. She simply watches the boy who hadn't yet identified himself, aware of his own hyper-vigilance. He always watched his back, while making sure she was always beside him, not behind. It was like he didn't know what to do with company. Allison didn't blame him. Her own track record where social interaction is involved isn't exactly glowing, and she doesn't comment on his impatience with her slow walk or the fact that he was pulling her over when he tugged at her arm. "I'm John."

Allison nods sharply in the darkness, not quite concentrating on his words, rather where he was taking her. It didn't seem like they were going to a safer place. Indeed it seemed like they were going further and further out from where she lived, and that made her skin prickle with excitement.

"Wanna have some fun?"

A small smile formed on her lips as she nodded. Tonight, she wouldn't let her own weirdness get in the way, and she would follow John's example. He had, after all, saved her. She chided herself silently, shaking her head minutely.

_Don't let yourself get attached, _she told herself, _you'll only get hurt. _

And yet as he led her into a house lit dimly with burnt out candles and dimmer lights turned right down, she couldn't help a thrill of excitement shooting up her spine. Entering the building, Allison bit back a cough and blinked quickly as the smoky atmosphere stung her eyes. Bender pulled her closer to him, and led her through the doorways. Within minutes, people surrounded John, hitting him on the back and nodding "sups" his way. Allison was content to live in his shadow.

She watched the people rushing past her eyes as she found a dark corner to sit in and observe. She didn't feel safe here, but she didn't want to leave, either. Getting out her sketchpad, she began to draw the scenes unfolding around her. Soon, the page was littered with different scenarios - other kids getting drunk, a couple in the corner who should have gotten a room ten minutes ago, kids getting high, and in the center, John Bender, staring back at her.

Eventually she noticed he had left the place on the couch he had claimed, and she was being yanked up by the arm again. "Bored?"

Allison nods in Bender's direction, and throws her sketchpad into her bag.

"Tired?"

This time, Allison shakes her head. Bender smirks.

"Liar."

The dark circles under her eyes tell John that she is lying, and her paler than ever skin made her look corpse like. Thoughts ran through Bender's mind as he wondered what he was going to do. He sure as hell wasn't going to let her stay on the street after tonight's endeavors, and he assumed talk of her home was a no-no.

Bender sighed, and ran his hands through his hair. In his eyes, he had no other choice. He was going to have to take her home. Inside, he laughed. He was going to sneak a girl into his house, and for once, she wouldn't be going into his wallet of photos.

It felt pretty damn good.


	5. Chapter 5

**Time is flying! It's already June 10th, isn't that amazing? Still, I only have around a month left of school until summer, so hopefully I'll be able to update much more then. **

* * *

"Well, come on, then." Bender says, confusing Allison. She shakes her head, disorientated from one, being pulled up too quickly, and two, where this boy was taking her now. While she was grateful that he was taking her home, she wondered _why _he was being so nice to her.

"Where?"

"My place," he replies smoothly, completely hiding the fact that he was terrified of letting this girl get hurt. "Or do you want to spend a night on the streets?"

Allison shakes her head quickly and follows him, close to his heels the whole way. She has a million questions to ask, mainly about his parents, but she has indeed noticed that he hasn't asked any about hers, and she repays the favor by keeping her mouth shut. After all, that's what everyone always tells her to do.

Ignoring the urge to ask the obvious questions that hung in the air, Allison bit her lip, anxiety filling the empty pit in her stomach. By the time they were in Bender's neighborhood, Allison's anxiety had hit the roof, and she felt a panic attack going on. As silly as it was, she always remember what her mother had told her about this part of town when she was a very little girl, hanging onto her mother's arm and wanting to explore.

"Not down there, Allison," Mrs Reynolds had said, pulling her daughter back by the hand. She stopped, and knelt to the little girl's level. "_Bad_ things happen down there, sweetie." Allison would always remember the chill she felt down her spine, and, though now she knew the extent of her mother's prejudice, she didn't like going down there. Now, in the dark of the night, she felt like that little girl again, and stuck as close to Bender as she possibly could.

Bender stopped, and this sent Allison crashing into him. "You afraid of the dark or something, Alley-Cat?" A faint blush swept over Allison's cheeks, and Bender laughed softly in the shadows the streetlamps cast over them both.

"No." Allison insisted, still blushing scarlet. Shaking his head, Bender smiled at her, though he told himself not to, to act like he didn't care, or couldn't smile. Yet the smile still crept onto his face, and he cursed himself for it.

* * *

Soon, they found themselves on the driveway of Bender's house, covered by the darkness of the night, and shrouded by all the secrets it could hold. Bender cocked his head, and listened. For what, Allison couldn't decipher, but she stood still beside him, waiting for him to make the first move.

Finally, after what seemed like a lifetime, Bender stood at his full height, which happened to rather tower over Allison. Nodding his head towards his home, Bender put his finger to his lips, a shhing gesture, and grabbed her hand. "Stay by me, and for god's sake..keep your mouth shut."

Allison nods sharply, and while she doesn't know the full extent of John's current home situation, the ugly yellowish brown bruises that resided on his left cheek that really shouldn't have been there told her all was not well. Bender motions for her to stay where she was, and he swung open his front door. Allison winced as she heard the string of abuse that followed. A loud but feminine voice boomed out, and she attacked the boy as soon as he entered her line of vision.

"What time do you call this, moron?" Allison sighs, disheartened. It wasn't fair that teenagers were berated day in, day out, by their parents. Sticking to her word, though, Allison stays put.

"Time to get a watch." Bender deadpans, a "whatever" tone in his voice. Allison knows this is simply an act, and uses the same voice with her own parents, when really she wants to cry out, and ask to be the little girl loved again.

"Watch your mouth, smart guy, or I'll get your father in here. Harry!"

"What, bitch?" Allison's eyes round at this comment. No matter how annoying her mother was being, to her or her father, Mr Reynolds always treated his wife with the utmost respect, and she had never once heard him even utter a bad word to her.

"I said come in here and sort out your good for nothin' son!"

"I'm gettin' a beer!" A masculine voice replies. A dry, heaving laugh follows, which then was chased by a fit of coughs.

"There's a surprise."

Allison watches the shadows behind the curtains with interest, and the Bender shaped silhouette fades slowly out of the room, a trick Allison had perfected when she was twelve. Fading out into the background was something that always came in handy. She thought about this while she waited, watching the empty street and feeling a chill down her spine, making her cold and on edge. She wishes Bender would hurry up and get her in however he plans to, but she tries to be patient.

Yet she still can't keep her eyes from growing heavier and heavier...and she finds herself falling asleep in John Bender's front yard.

* * *

After making his way to his room, Bender throws all of his stuff into his closet, and stuffs anything remotely dodgy looking under his beaten bed, making the room semi presentable.

_Wouldn't wanna scare off the little rich girl now, _Bender thinks, a little bitterly. He shakes his head and tries to reason with himself that she isn't the same. He opens his window as fully as he can, and leans out. His house - much more alike to an old shack than a pretty semi detached - is luckily only one floor, and Bender would be able to easily sneak in Allison. It was a trick he had perfected many years ago, when he first brought girls home. You'd be surprised how many girls don't mind crawling through windows to get their pants off, Bender always says, with a laugh and a wink.

He leans out of his window and calls her name softly. He repeats this three times, and then sighs, climbing out of the window. He is expecting to find nobody there, and an empty lawn - if that's what you could call the strands of grass that Bender's house sat on. So, Bender is surprised when he sees a small, shadowy figure lying on the grass. Bender shakes his head and wonders if she had any self preservation at all.

Rolling his eyes, and sighing, Bender decides she doesn't. Lucky for her, he wasn't going to leave her to freeze on this cold winter's night, and he first took her bag into his room, throwing it lightly to the side. He then goes back for her, picking up the tiny bundle of black clothes and silent observations in her sleeping form, and takes her into his bedroom with ease. He is unable to believe it as she doesn't even stir, not even when he drops her on the bed, leaving her to sleep. It was pretty late for him, too. Yawning, Bender grabs a pillow from the bed, and an old blanket, and throws them down to make a bed for himself. He wedges a wooden chair in front of his door, and, happy that the door won't open, settles down to sleep.

* * *

When the sun began to shine and the birds began to tweet early in the morning, Allison began to stir. Confused at first, Allison soon realizes where she is, and groans. She groans because of two things - the first of which is that she's essentially homeless, and the second that she badly needs to use the bathroom.

John Bender, meanwhile, remained curled up in a blanket on the floor, snoring softly. Allison smiled at his face, serene in sleep, and fidgeted uncomfortably. Bender always seemed so anxious in consciousness, and it seemed such a shame to rouse him and make him like that again. Eventually, though, Allison gently shook his shoulders.

Bender opened one eye and yawned sleeping. "Still here, Alley-Cat?"

Allison smiles at Bender, nodding her head shyly. Bender gives her a smirk, raising an eyebrow. "I think it's time for another adventure. What do you think?"

Allison smiles coyly to herself. She doesn't tell him, but she thinks it's the best idea she'd heard in a very long time.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: **

**Aloha, guys! :) I hope you like this chapter. (:**

Bender throws the blanket off of him and stretches, yawning loudly and blinking the sleep out of his eyes, always watching her as she warily regards him. Allison wriggles under his gaze and wonders if she'll get a shower this morning.

"My old man'll be out cold for hours yet," Bender remarks, nodding at Allison. "The hot water doesn't always work, but you can try it out," he continues, as if reading her thoughts. Allison murmurs a thanks to him and he nods, a subtle smile lighting up the lower half of his face. "First door on the right," he calls, as she scampers out in search of a bathroom.

Bender pulls off his shirt, replaces it with another from his bedroom floor, and does the same for his pants and underwear. Allison creeps into the room as he is doing so, and blushes a deep red. Dropping her bag, she covers her eyes and squeaks.

"Sorry!"

Bender barely registers her embarrassment, and shakes his head at her in a good natured gesture of saying that it was fine, and then stuffs his wallet in his jean pocket, rummaging through his nightstand and finding a twenty, which seems to please him. "So, where are we going today?"

A smile plays at the corners of Allison's mouth, and she shrugs, drowning in a sea of black fabric. Feeling exposed even though from her neck to her toes she was covered, Allison pulls the thick cardigan around her shoulders, drawing it around her and resting her chin on her hand. "You decide."

"But sweetheart, I decided yesterday," he replies, a glint in his eye. Allison rolls her big eyes at him, and he smiles back at her. "I'm beat after yesterday. One thing's for sure: I'm not spending the day with Kyle, that as-"

"Please don't." Allison whispers harshly, her voice raspy. She'd rather _not _think about that part of last night - not when the rest of her night was so exciting for her, even if she simply stayed to herself for most of it, drawing and people watching.

Bender's eyes soften only for a second before snapping back to the unfeeling expression he wore as a default. He wonders if she usually was more chatty - whether it was him, or indeed last night's events that hindered her speech - or whether she simply liked to think before she spoke. He thought it was more likely to be the latter, as he had seen her around school, and she didn't exactly seem to be the most popular girl, and people tended to pass her by. Hell, he couldn't judge someone not having friends. Sometimes he wished he didn't have friends at all; his own weren't that desirable by many people's standards.

"You going home today?" Bender asks gruffly, not admitting to himself that he was a little afraid of her answer. For the first time, there was someone who Bender actually wanted to get to know, and she might be running right back to Richville this morning.

Thankfully, she shakes her head and sighs, biting the insides of her cheeks. "No."

"Forget about them," Bender says, surprising her, and taking her arm. "Come on, before my old man wakes. Let's get out of here."

* * *

Eventually, Allison leads Bender to her favorite spot in the whole town, a little path down to the river that she spends much of her time admiring and painting. They don't talk very much as they head down to the river, both feeling as if words were unnecessary between them, but Allison rambles when they finally reach their destination.

"It's such a beautiful place. I must have drawn it a million times but I never get bored. I hope you like it, too. Nobody really comes down here - the path is a bit beaten, I'll admit - but I like it a lot. I suppose that people are too interested in-"

Unable to take her incessant ramblings any longer - no matter how much he loved the sound of her soft, sweet voice - and before thinking of his actions, or another way to get her to shut up, Bender presses his lips to hers. Her eyes widen and she gasps through the kiss. Her expression is reminiscent of a deer in the headlights, and she's frozen to the spot. When he pulls away, he senses that she's in a flight or fight kind of situation - and he just knows that she would chose flight.

He's right.

Fleeing through the trees in the forest, Allison curses herself for running away. Not only that, she curses herself for running away in an unfamiliar route; she has absolutely no idea where she's going, or which way is home. _Where is home, anyway? _Allison thinks bitterly. And then she's laughing, because she's run away, but she's running to the danger.

Deep in her heart, even though she still sprints through the foliage, she knows that Bender is not dangerous to her. Touching her lips, still tingling faintly, Allison smiles.

She thinks of the last day. Sure, it's been less than 24 hours, but she trusts this boy. And if he's ready for something more than a friendship, maybe, just maybe...she's willing to give it a go.

Allison spins round in her tracks. Sprinting back the way she came (or at least the way she thinks she came), Allison tries to navigate her way back to the river. After around a half hour, she finds her way back, and Bender's waiting, feet dangling over the riverbed, looking around. When he spots her, he nods a greeting to her, grinning, and Allison sees that familiar sparkle in his brown eyes.

"Looking less like a deer now, Alley-Cat." And then she runs to him, forgetting all her inhibitions, and connecting their lips once again. An identical thought runs through both of the teenager's heads; _I could get used to this._


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N:**

**Before this chapter, I just want to talk to you guys! Now, I write these fanfics mainly for myself, firstly because I like writing and secondly because I like The Breakfast Club and all of those other wonderful shows and movies. But I upload it to FanFiction to get feedback from other writers. It's really quite upsetting to see people who are clearly enjoying the story (favoriting, following the story and me, etc), and not telling me what you think. Please, even if it's anonymous, let me know what you think of this chapter, through PM or whatever. I love hearing what everyone has to say. And without further ado, please enjoy the newest chapter.**

Lying on the riverbank, head tilted and enjoying the sunshine that continually washed over her face, for once not minding that the hot Illinois weather burned through the darkness of her clothes, Allison sighed in contentment. She hadn't even thought about the mess she'd left behind - and that didn't mean just the stain on the carpet of her bedroom. Bender watched her, unable to tear his eyes from her small frame, thoughts running through his head like galloping stallions through a wide, open field.

Usually, he would have rolled his eyes. Who wastes their day sitting in the middle of nowhere, doing nothing? _No_, he thought, _she's not doing nothing. _His eyes flitted to the drawing pad that sat in her lap, and the quick hand that sketched lazily, capturing a scene that Allison could not even imagine ever happening. A happy family.

Bender placed a hand on Allison's thigh, his thumb absentmindedly brushing against the skin covered in opaque black tights, in a clumsy attempt to comfort her. Allison cast a glance over her drawing pad and blushed. It seemed that whenever she didn't pay attention, whenever her mind dared to wonder beyond what was happening right at that second, all her hidden worries and woes spilled onto the paper in a charcoal colored mess.

And while the drawing was quite clearly a family that was smiling and pleased to be with one another - something that neither Bender nor Allison had ever quite had in their grasps, it was messily drawn and indistinct to someone without a keen eye for sad scenes. Allison sighed once again; this time, drawing in a deep, steady breath that revealed the hopelessness that dwelled beneath her very surface.

"You're not happy." Bender tells her flatly, standing and pulling her up with her. Allison trails her eyes over his face, briefly scanning for a flicker of emotion that lit up his eyes just moments previous. Whatever flame lingered there before, her drawing had silenced it, extinguished the hope that with her, he was happy. The thought stirred her stomach into anxious knots where butterflies flitted, and in their desperate attempts to stay in flight, caused Allison to feel unjust apprehensiveness.

Letting her gaze once again fall to the ground, Allison shrugs despondently. After racking her brains, and finally finding fitting words to say, her voice comes out as a small, gravelly rasp. "It's been a long time since I've been happy,"

It broke Bender's heart (though it already was in tatters) to hear the listless words that escaped from her lips. He almost kissed her once again to shut her up, struggling to hear that she felt so low. He minutely shook his head to himself, however, and knew that it would be a dirty and selfish trick. Besides, he convinced himself, he wanted to know about her. Everything he could, he wanted to know, to absorb the information. It had been a long time - or had it been ever? - that anyone or anything had made him feel this way, and the closer he felt to losing it the worse he felt.

"Let me take you home," Bender offers, determined to do the right thing even if it meant that he was sent packing with his tail behind his legs back to the poor part of town.

Allison smiles at him, and shakes her head, letting her hair fall in front of her eyes. "No," she whispers, her smile slowly slipping off of her face. "It won't be like that. It will be screaming, and fights, and tears..."

Bender pushes Allison's hair back. "Alley-Cat," he continues, more firmly. "Let me take you home."

"Will you stay with me?" Allison asks, her voice so tiny and pathetic that even Bender felt the shame that radiated off of her. "It scares me - the thought of going home."

Bender frowns, and nods his head. "I'll stay as long as you need me to."

* * *

It doesn't take a very long time to cross town to get to Allison's house, even though Allison extended the journey for as long as she could possibly manage. Her holdall was slung heavily over one shoulder, and her feet dragged on the sidewalk as they both trailed up her front path.

Biting her lip in a nervous anticipation, Allison knocked on the front door wearily, staring at the ground while doing so. Bender stood beside her in a supportive stance, ready to defend her if necessary. Allison winced as she heard footsteps and Bender resisted the urge to swear. While he thought that Allison probably did use her fair share of expletives, he imagined that her parents wouldn't be pleased to hear them come out of his mouth anymore than they were pleased to see him standing on their doorstep, making it look untidy.

When the door opened, Bender's eyebrows shot up. A prim looking woman, not a hair out of place, wearing a dress that looked like it belonged in the window of a boutique in town, appeared on the other side.

Bender glanced over to Allison, and he saw her chin wobble and eyes mist. The woman, who Bender correctly assumed was Mrs Reynolds, opened her eyes widely in shock. Two arms shot out and around Allison's back and her mother engulfed her into a hug. Bender already felt the sourness sink into his stomach. The sob story was clearly a lie, a web spun to get him to help her. She was yet another rich runaway with nothing better to do. Bender sniffed indignantly, and Allison slowly pulled away from her mother, eyes wide.

"We've been so worried, sweetheart! My goodness, never do that again. And you, young man? Am I correct in thinking that you helped her home? I'm so sorry for the trouble she must have caused. Please accept my sincere gratefulness, Allison's father and I have never been more concerned. Allison, come in, my dear."

Allison, utterly confused by her mother's sudden change of heart, let her lead her inside and slam the door. She watched Bender walk down the path and then common sense kicked in. "I'm sorry, Mom, and thanks for understanding, but I have to go after him-"

Allison was interrupted by a harsh slap when her mother's hand collided with her left cheek. "I don't know why you thought I really thought that, Allison Reynolds. You are going to your room _now, _and if you think you're having any drawing supplies, any arty things that you love so much, then you're mistaken. And as for bringing that tramp to our doorstep! What will the neighbors think, you stupid girl? Get to your room! Now!"

Allison took the stairs two at a time to escape her mother's glare on the back of her neck. Sinking to the floor in her room, she wondered how things could possibly get worse, when her notebook, now propped against her bedroom door, fluttered to a random page.

The face of John Bender stared back at her.

Would she ever see him again?


	8. Chapter 8

When she woke up to a tear soaked pillow the next morning, Allison almost wished that it was Monday morning instead of Sunday. Sundays were usually spent drawing, and then accompanying her parents to church, where she would do her best to stand up straight and smile and engage in conversation, and inevitably fail, never quite meeting her mother's impossibly high standards.

Mondays, of course, meant school. School meant being ignored for most of the day and keeping your mouth shut, trying to avoid people's gazes, and getting through lessons as quickly as time would allow, and then scampering out of school, walking at a quick pace home, where her bedroom would be her haven for the rest of the evening. Sighing, Allison slowly rose out of her bed, and walked to the bathroom, where she washed her face and brushed her teeth, trying to appear as innocent as possible. Venturing down the stairs, Allison strained to hear the conversations unfolding between her parents. While she heard pieces of sentences, she couldn't hear well enough to string one together, and the tones her parents were using sounded agreeable, so she carefully stepped down the stairs, her footsteps silent.

Her mother regarded her coolly, with a nod and a "Hello, Allison," while her father, always the kinder of the two, ruffled his daughter's hair and said sincerely that he had been worried.

"I'm sorry, Dad," Allison replied, her voice scratchy from sleep. "I didn't mean to worry you."

"That's alright, kiddo." Allison gave her father a smile and omitted the fact that _he _had been the one to throw her out, grateful for even the smallest of olive branches. "We won't be going to church today, sweetheart. You can stay at home, or go and see some friends." The last part Allison took with a pinch of salt, not knowing whether her father was truly oblivious to the fact that she had no friends, or whether it was a ploy to dig the knife in further, and her mother gave her a sickly sweet smile.

"Yes," her mother continued, undoing her apron strings and placing it over the back of a chair. "We're going to an art exhibit, in that big gallery that just opened. Very last minute, of course. Have a good day, won't you?" Mrs Reynolds said, draping a cardigan over her shoulders. Mr Reynolds kissed the top of his daughter's head, and nodded.

"Have a good day, darling. See you tonight."

The door slammed before Allison even had the chance to think of a reply, and she sat down at the breakfast table, feeling as vacant and empty as the table she was sat at.

* * *

Allison concentrated the first hour her parents were gone on hiding the best part of her art supplies. Her favorite sketch book, which now had John Bender's face burned onto one of the pages, was well hidden under Allison's mattress, and her pencils and pens were in her old shoes, while her paints were stuffed into an old teddy bear that had a little compartment at the back for who knows what.

At ten o'clock, when Allison was satisfied with her squirreled art supplies, she dressed into an old black sweater and a long, black skirt, along with black boots. She then fished her house key out of the bowl by the door, and started her journey to that dark alley where she first met John Bender.

* * *

Meanwhile, John Bender was just rolling out of bed, shoving on his jeans, and, carefully avoiding his parents, he slipped out of the front door. Not knowing quite where he was going, Bender sighed, and continued on, until he finally decided to stop. Due to the fact that he had been staring at his shoes for the most part of the journey, he wasn't that sure where he had ended up. Glancing at the scene in front of him, Bender groaned in frustration, and kicked a rock that got in his way. Sure, he knew that he'd been thinking about Allison, about the way she smiled in the light by the river bank, and maybe, maybe, she had sneaked into his dreams last night, but so what?

Allison Reynolds was a stuck up rich kid with a little too much baggage for him, and that was that.

So why was he sitting down next to the river, wondering how on earth he was going to get her next to him again?

* * *

Allison made sure no-one was around, and then slid down that filthy wall once again, trying to block out the hurt feeling that threatened to spill hot tears onto her pale cheeks. Not only were her parents just as bad as usual, even after she had gone missing (well, if you can count a teenager being thrown out as _missing) _for two days, but she probably would never be allowed to see John Bender again.

She thought hard and supposed that while they might share a glance in the hallways at school, they would never have a conversation like they had, and their lips would never touch again..or anything else that she totally _hadn't _been dreaming about.

* * *

From two very separate parts of town, two teenagers sighed in unison, thinking of nothing but when they'd see each other again. They could only hope that it was sooner rather than later, but very much doubting it at the same time.

* * *

**A/N: **

**Hey, guys. I hope you liked this chapter! I'll update when I have fourteen reviews, and not a minute before! ;)**

**~ Caitlin**


	9. Chapter 9

It was a few weeks before Allison's eyes met Bender's across the halls in school. Allison, as per usual, was alone, and Bender was with his friends that Allison wanted nothing to do with. No friends were better than friends that acted like his, Allison had decided, carefully watching them from next to her locker. They spat on the floor and gave her funny looks and it almost made her hope that he'd told them about her, but in her heart she knew that he'd rather throw all his drugs down the drain than tell anybody that he kissed her, and to be quite honest, she didn't blame him.

Allison Reynolds knew she had no redeeming features, and her self worth was little or non-existent. That, added to the fact that she had no friends to tell about him, meant that Allison, while feeling extremely low and degraded, did nothing to make bonds with him. So when their eyes met, just for a few seconds, across the hallway, Allison had almost cried by the hardness of his dark brown eyes. The straw that broke the camel's back, though, was Bender's friend making a comment. "Ay, why is that freak lookin' over here? Quit it, weirdo, your face is hurting my eyes."

Allison couldn't quite figure out what was worse - being called ugly, which obviously was a hurtful insult, or the fact that John had laughed at the comment, not quite meeting her eyes. That had made her heart hurt, a stabbing feeling, like she had been sucker punched. And that was the last time Allison had made any connection to John Bender...until now. In detention.

Allison watched him warily, waiting for him to insult her, to do something, say something, but after he reprimanded her about biting her nails and tauntingly told her that he'd "seen her before", he said nothing, did nothing. Well, technically, that wasn't _strictly _true. Allison pursed her lips and reminded herself of her mother as she rolled her eyes at John's actions - whistling and throwing balled up pieces of paper and announcing that he needed to use the bathroom in a less than prim way. If it had been under any other circumstances, she would have seen those actions in a much different light. Perhaps, if everything else hadn't happened between them, she'd have brushed it off, thinking that he was bored, and in detention, and trying to irritate the popular kids whose very existence irritated him. Maybe she would have even gone as far as to agree with him. Andrew Clarke and Claire Standish annoyed her, too, with their arrogant personalities and _dazzling _smiles, and false demeanors.

But there was something so insincere with his actions when she had seen a different side to him, something real, some part of him, no matter how small, that had real substance. Allison knew that it wouldn't be easy to find that part of him again, and it would take a lot of soul searching on both of their parts, but she would do it.

While thoughts of a reconciliation ran through Allison's head, Bender's head was filled with many questions. One question that seemed so insignificant kept cropping back up - why was Allison, his sweet, timid Alley-Cat, in detention? He almost laughed out loud at the thoughts that popped up, but none seemed to fit. He resolved to ask her, in the most nonchalant way he could. If only he could figure out how to play it cool around her when his face flamed when he thought of her.

He distracted himself by making jibes at the snobbiest, richest, and possibly most spoiled _Daddy's girl _in the room. To be perfectly honest, he didn't know why he did it. To just be a jerk, maybe, or to prove something to himself..or to her..he didn't know exactly. An added bonus to annoying the future prom queen was the little bulldog she had next to her, under the name of Andrew Clarke. Bender mused to himself that this athlete was just _too _fun to wind up, and press his buttons.

Even though when he had seen her walk into the room, he had told himself to avoid looking at her, to avoid thinking of her, and to avoid even remembering she was there, there was something inside of Bender that made him turn to look at Allison. When he did so, he noted that she had the remarkable knack of looking affronted whenever he dared glance in her direction. Whether she would keep this level of haughtiness up for the whole duration, or whether she would simply feign it when she spotted him looking at her (which admittedly was a lot more than he would have liked, or even said by his own admission), he didn't know. He somewhat hoped that she had missed him, but then he scolded himself. _She's a spoiled rich kid who scammed you into saving her. You thought you felt something for her, and she slammed a door in your face and didn't even say goodbye. You won't get hurt again, boy, not this time. _

Allison sat up straight in her chair, an epiphany dawning on her. Hell, Vernon had practically spelled it all out for her, and she was only just realizing, Allison thought, replaying Vernon's words in her head.

_You have exactly eight hours and fifty four minutes to think about why you are here - to ponder the error of your ways._

She had been looking at the situation all wrong. Rather than seeing this as an invasion of her personal haven, Allison should have seen this as a great gift. John Bender was stuck in a room with her for nine hours. This was most likely her one and only chance to win back his affections - and she would be damned if she was leaving without them.

* * *

**A/N: **

**So, I'm a girl of my word, and here's the chapter. You got me 16 reviews which I'm really really pleased about, so thank you! I'm sorry if this isn't the best, it's a really quick update to get us into the next chapter. Also it's 3am. **

**If you review, you get a sneak peek of the next chapter! Guests...you might want to have an account or email that I can send it to? ;)**

**P.s I hope bribery is better than blackmail for reviews. xP **


	10. Chapter 10

Allison sat in her seat at the back of the room, carefully watching what was going on around her, trying not to react. She listened to Bender irritating Claire and Andy, and she listened to the conversations about clubs with a small, unnoticeable smile on her face. Her lips quirked into a smile when Brian had stumbled over his words, telling Bender that he attended the physics club, the Latin club, and the maths club, and she hoped that Bender wouldn't torment him over it. His innocent face made Allison feel like she wasn't as alone in this room, even if he hadn't talked to her. When Bender simply said that the club was "demented and sad, but social,", Allison felt that she knew him again, and was pleased that she hadn't given up. He wasn't as bad as the "popular" kids, and he hadn't made too much of a cynical comment about the somewhat geeky clubs the bright eyed boy attended.

While Allison was content to simply watch Bender, John wasn't quite sure how to behave around the girl who he had, for once, felt a true connection to. He had decided the best course of action was to ignore her utterly, and to distract himself by berating the other students. This way, he took his anger out, but not at her, who he badly wanted to get to know again. After twenty minutes of a hushed discussion, Bender decided to take the screw out of the door. He did that for a few reasons; one being that he didn't like Vernon hearing his conversations, and the other was to annoy Andrew, who was wearing his patience considerably thin.

When Vernon stormed into the room, seething with anger and contempt, and determined to find out who closed the door, Bender had rolled his eyes and waited for the lecture.

"Why is that door closed?" He boomed, his shoes squeaking across the floor as he stepped further into the room. He took a long, hard glance at Andrew, who put his head down. Staring at Bender, Vernon repeated again, "Why is that door closed?"

"How are we supposed to know? We're not supposed to move, right?" Bender responded, his eyes challenging. Vernon narrowed his eyes, and turned to Claire. Allison watched silently.

"_Why _is that door closed?"

Claire struggled for an answer for a moment. "We were just sitting here, like we were supposed to." Shaking his head, Vernon stepped between the rows of chairs.

"Who closed that door?"

"I think a screw fell out of it." Bender supplied.

"It just closed, sir." Andrew added.

What Bender hadn't anticipated was Vernon asking Allison anything. When he did, shouting an accusatory _who? _at her, Bender felt a stab of guilt. Even spending just those two days with her, he knew she would have hated that attention. The worst part of it was the look on her face; the deer caught in the headlights expression, and the squeak that escaped from her lips without her permission. He felt as if his already scarred and marked heart got another welt as she almost face planted the table, hiding from sight under her furry coat hood.

Sighing, Bender faced Vernon again. "She doesn't talk, Sir," he informed him, shaking his head and looking down to the desk in front of him.

* * *

A few hours passed, with no words being spoken in the room. The five teenagers at first found ways to entertain themselves - drawing, smoking, fiddling with their clothes, or daydreaming, but soon grew tired of being stuck in a room with people who they didn't even like. Ten eyes grew heavier and heavier as every minute passed, and soon there were five teenagers in a deep slumber, only waking when the offer of using the bathroom was made.

Allison only found herself being really, properly awake when Claire started complaining about her parents. Allison listened as she complained about her parents fighting over her and something inside of her snapped. Her parents argued about her - didn't she know how lucky she was? At least they acknowledged her. Fighting over her meant they care about her, Allison thought bitterly, biting her lip.

And then she couldn't help herself any longer. Allison sat up in her chair, and shouted a very loud "Ha!" A silence fell upon the room as she did so, and Claire frowned deeply, staring at Allison. The look on Allison's face afterwards made John smile to himself. It was the same look she had given him after he kissed her. Blowing her hair out of her face, Allison looked away as Claire yelled at her to shut up.

Impressed by her outburst, Bender felt the need to see if he could provoke a bigger reaction out of his Alley-Cat. Half of him wanted to hurt her, and the other half wanted to know if she ever truly cared about him. Leaning on the desk in front of Claire, Bender tilted his head.

"Are you a virgin? I'll bet you a _million _dollars that you are." Bender subtly checked his peripheral vision to see if he had Allison's attention, and when he was sure he had, he continued, "Let's end the suspense. Is it gonna be...a white wedding?"

Allison looked away in disgust, feeling sick to her stomach. It felt like someone was hitting her when he asked her those questions, horrified that he wanted to know. "Shut up," Claire muttered. When she looked over at him again, she noticed that he was looking at her, too, and while he quickly looked away, she saw the look on his face, and had a feeling she knew what his game was.

He was trying to get a rise out of her, and she could play this game just as well as he could.

* * *

Though Allison had resolved not to be too concerned about John Bender's well-being for today, at least, she had felt twinges of concern when a fight broke out between him and Andrew. It did occur to her that John wasn't quite as tough as he made out, quite as ready to injure somebody, when he let Andrew pin him to the floor. It was when a switchblade was flicked, that caught her attention. There was no way he was getting his hands on that, or Andrew. As luck would have it, Bender stuck it into the chair next to her. Allison quietly leaned over and pulled the knife from the wooden chair, slipping it into her bag.

Now, Allison thought to herself, this is the time you can't be worrying about him. That's what he wants, and she would be damned if he was getting it. No, she could play this game, too.

* * *

It wasn't long after their fight that lunch finally arrived. Unfortunately, it wasn't a time that Allison could use wisely; at least, the first part of it wasn't. She sighed internally as she was ordered to go and get drinks for everyone with Andrew. The last thing she wanted was to spend any time at all with him. However, Allison did see it as an opportunity. If Bender was using Claire to hurt her, to make her jealous, or whatever he thought he was supposedly doing, then she could use Andy.

"So...what's your poison?" Andy asked her as they walked down the corridor. Allison hesitated for a moment. "What do you drink?" Andy repeated, clearly thinking she was stupid. Allison began to open her mouth, but was cut off. "Okay. Forget I asked."

"Vodka."

"Vodka?" He asks. "When do you drink _vodka?"_

"Whenever." Allison replies offhandedly.

"A lot?"

"Tonnes."

"Is that why you're here? Why are you here?"

"Why are you here?" Allison immediately said, her defenses suddenly up. Andrew looks at her.

"Um, I'm here today... because uh, because my coach and my father don't want me to blow my ride. See I get treated differently because uh, Coach thinks I'm a winner. So does my old man. I'm not a winner because I wanna be one... I'm a winner because I got strength and speed. Kinda like a race horse. That's about how involved I am in what's happening to me." He replies. Allison listens, one eyebrow raised, to the whole ramble. She knows that none of it is true, but nods anyway.

"That's very...interesting." Allison replies. "Now why don't you tell me why you're really here?"

"Forget it." He instantly replies, annoyed by her inability to believe his lies. Allison complies with his offer, keeping her face neutral but feeling prickles of anxiety all throughout her body.

* * *

When they get back to the classroom, they put the cans of coke on the table at the front, where Andrew and Claire sit. Allison returns to her seat, and gets back to her drawing, and constructing her Pixie Stix and Captain Crunch sandwich. Bender throws her a can of coke backwards, and she catches it just in time. She's thankful that she didn't embarrass herself by dropping it, or by getting hit in the face by it.

Bender watches her carefully, utterly confused by her. She was rich, and he was sure she was as stuck up as the others, but how could he believe it when she acted in the way she did? She was drinking coke from the top of the table. He also wondered how she'd handle all that sugar.

He was slowly coming round to the idea that _maybe _she wasn't like the rest. Maybe she really is his Alley-Cat. He just knew that he had a lot of figuring out to do before he decided on that.

* * *

**A/N: **

**This one is a little longer than usual because quite a bit of it is quotes from the movie. I hope you like the chapter, and the next will be better, with some more interaction between the two, but I think this one was needed to show their thoughts and feelings. I really try to update this quickly, and I think I do manage to quite well. That's because my priorities are all wrong, but we'll pretend that we didn't hear that. **

**Also, have you ever tried Allison's sandwich? I have. It's certainly an acquired taste! :P**


	11. Chapter 11

Sliding back into his seat in the classroom, Andrew stole one last glance at Allison. Who _was _this weird girl who had decided the first words out of her mouth to him would be about her incessant binge drinking? Shaking his head minutely to himself, he really didn't know whether to believe her or not.

He turns to Claire, who raised her eyebrows. Bender watched them both out of his peripheral vision, making sure that they didn't know they were being observed. "So when I was going to get the cokes," he begins, shifting in his seat to get in a more comfortable position, "Guess what Little Miss Radio Silence said to me?"

Claire rolled her eyes. To be utterly truthful, Claire hadn't yet formed an opinion of Allison - not a solid one, at least. On one hand, she wanted to punch her because of the way she'd laughed at her earlier, and on the other hand, Claire somewhat admired the way that she could (generally) stay in a dignified silence throughout everything. "I don't know. What did she say?"

"She was telling me about the _tonnes _of vodka she drinks."

This time, it was Bender who rolled his eyes, and stifled a snort. Yes, he may have been the one to call Claire pristine, but he'd put more money on Claire drinking vodka than Allison. He doubted if she'd even _seen _a bottle of vodka, let alone drank the huge volumes she called "tonnes".

Claire sniffed snobbishly, and the hint of a smile crossed her features for a moment. "Oh, I don't doubt that. I mean, look at her."

Bender crossed the room, a smirk on his face. Pretending to be getting up simply to rip up another book, Bender's lips brushed Allison's ear and his breath tickled her as he leaned down and whispered to her. "You share your poison, and I'll share mine. Can't say _vodka _ever really caught my eye, but I'd give it another try."

He swiftly walked away from her, and watched from another point in the library as her face turned red, a sweet color that reminded him of apples. Allison glanced to check that she wasn't being watched by anyone in the classroom, and stalked over to Bender, her brown eyes narrowed into slits.

"You don't even _know _me." Allison hissed, keeping her voice to a low volume. "Don't pretend like you do."

"You're just like the rest of them." Bender shot back, flicking his hair back in anger. "Like every other person in this room."

"Don't you dare." Allison growled, her patience wearing thinner and thinner with every word crossed between them. "Now back off until you can think for yourself. You're as bad as Andy," she spat. Being compared to Claire Standish was the last straw with Allison. Her eyes watered but she forced herself to keep a straight face. She had done nothing wrong, and if she was going to let him see her cry again, she'd be damned.

Allison turned away before a string of expletives left John's mouth, and she smirked through the angst she felt. One point to her.

* * *

Storming through the library, Bender stopped at Brian, and held his hand out for his weed. Brian of course complied, and Allison raised an eyebrow, watching him. She also watched Claire regarding Bender. When she rose to join him, she wasn't too surprised. She almost expected it to happen. Jealousy bubbled at her surface, but she kept her face a blank canvas, unprepared to let his actions bother her. Or, at least, to show that his actions bothered her.

When Brian got up, too, she was a little more surprised, but not shocked. She sighed as she saw him hotfoot it over to the two other students. Even when Andy stood, she wasn't that inundated with shock. She followed him with her eyes as he trailed behind them all, going to sit with the others.

While the others smoked, giggling and laughing, with Claire yammering on about how popular she is, and how everybody loved her, Andrew dancing around the stairs, and Brian saying stupid stuff in a fake voice, Allison watched, feeling useless. Her mouth opened and closed more than once as she tried to gather a coherent sentence together, failing each time.

* * *

By the time Allison had thought of something mildly intelligent to say, it was too late. Instead of going straight to Bender, Allison chose to sit by Andy and Brian, who were discussing the merits of a fake ID for voting purposes. Of course, this was after Allison chose to steal - or borrow, she prefers - Brian's wallet, and moods were frayed. Allison smiled to herself as she thought of it. It was the third thing she had stolen today - if you counted Bender's knife and locker lock. She was making quite a habit of it.

Unable to help herself, Allison grabbed her bag. "Wanna see what's in _my _bag?" Coincidentally, it was the same bag she had packed those days ago, when John Bender had taken her under his wing. Everything still remained in it, and so it was considerably full. Though the boys shook their head, Allison narrowed her eyes and dumped the entire contents of her purse onto the couch they were sitting on. She knew she had John's attention. The main reason she had done it was to gauge his reaction - to see if it pulled him back to that night.

As she had packed in a hurry, an array of things fell from her purse - tampons, clothes, bits of stray paper, adverts that she had stuffed in there, and much, much more.

After she had answered their question, saying yes, that she always carried this much in her bag, she shrugged. "You never know when you may have to jam."

"Are you gonna be like a shopping bag lady? You know like, sit in alleyways and like talk to buildings and wear men's shoes and that kinda thing?"

"I'll do what I have to do."

"Why do you have to do anything?" Brian inquired. Now she knew that Bender was listening - she had looked over her shoulder - she began what she had wanted to tell him from the beginning, that she knew he wouldn't believe if she just told him.

"My home life..is unsatisfying."

"So you're saying you'd subject yourself to the violent dangers of the Chicago streets because your home life is unsatisfying?"

"I don't have to run away and live in the street; I can run away and, go to the ocean, I can go to the country, I can go to the mountains. I can go to Israel, Africa, Afghanistan..." _An alley way, _Allison thinks silently.

"Andy...you wanna get in on this? Allison here says, she wants to run away, because her home life is unsatisfying."

"Well everyone's home lives are unsatisfying. If it wasn't, people would live with there parents forever." He says simply, and Allison resists the urge to yell.

"Yeah, yeah I understand. But I think that hers goes beyond, you know, what guys like you and me consider normal unsatisfying."

Suddenly shy, Allison closes up once again. Maybe she doesn't want everyone to know about her awful home life, after all. Especially Claire.

"Never mind, forget it, everything's cool." Allison mutters.

"What's the deal?"

"No! There's no deal, Sporto. Forget it, leave me alone." Bender's attention is once again caught by her use of his nickname, and he has an internal battle of whether to go and talk to her or not.

"Wait a minute, now you're carrying all that crap around in your purse. Either you really wanna run away or you want people to think you wanna run away."

Allison shakes her head and walks away, seething. _The boy knows nothing, _Allison thinks angrily.

And while Allison silently seethed, alone and angry, something good had come from their conversation. Bender, who had watched from across the room, began to realize something. He began to realize that maybe, they weren't so different after all.

**A/N: **

**Here we go! I hope you liked it. I know the end is mainly lines from the movie, but I hope you don't mind. It's not the best but I really wanted to update. School starts soon which means not that many updates and I just got back from holiday, so I'm tired and blah. But as always I will try my level best!**

**~ Caitlin**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N:**

**As far as I'm aware, and if all goes to plan with this chapter (because I write these stupid A/Ns that nobody reads before I write the chapter), this should be the last chapter to be heavily based on lines from the movie. This fic will _not _****be ending in the classroom, to let you know, so it will be a lot more Bender/Basketcase interaction, I promise. For now, though, I hope you're enjoying this story. Please let me know what you think of the chapter in a PM or a review. Can I get to 25? ;)**

Five teenagers regard each other warily, sitting in a circle in the middle of a library floor. Allison leaned against the stack of books behind her, grateful for the small amount of shelter they provided. Allison, in recent days, had found that nothing is more cutting than the stare of certain people burning into the back of your neck.

Claire had initiated a game of "Would you...?" and Allison was listening carefully to what the other students had to say. To her, it was always interesting how people acted differently when they weren't with their friends, when they weren't with their family. While Allison had experience in acting differently with the latter, she wasn't quite as sure with the former, seeing as she'd never really been a popular student in any scenario.

Still, if it killed a half hour of they time they had remaining, and it was even _somewhat _entertaining, then she would listen silently. Andrew spoke first.

"What would I do for a million bucks? Well, I guess I'd do as little as I had to." He shrugs, smiling a little bashfully. Claire scoffs at him, and Allison resists the urge to roll her eyes.

"That's boring!"

"Well, how am I supposed to answer?" Andrew asks, frowning.

"The idea is to like search your mind for the absolute limit. Like, uh, would you drive to school naked?" Claire inquires. Bender, who currently had his eyes on Allison, smirked as a red tinge appeared on her face. It reminded him of her face when he kissed her. He pushed the thought out of his mind, groaning inwardly.

_Don't think about that, _Bender told himself. _She's not worth it. _

Andrew simply laughs at the question. "Um, uh...would I have to get out of the car?" Claire nods.

"Of course."

"In the spring, or winter?" Andy asks. Claire giggles, and shrugs her shoulders.

"Doesn't matter. Spring."

"In front of the school or in back of the school?" Andy asks. Brian watches with interest.

"Either!" Claire says, feeling faintly impatient.

"..Yes." Andy finally decides, a sheepish smile creeping onto his face. Allison thinks for a split second, thinking about what she is about to do, just to get back at him, and then she does it anyway.

"I'd do that!" She blurts out, before letting herself think of the repercussions. Three pairs of eyes turn to look at her, and Bender's, whose eyes were already fixated on her, rolled. Allison forces herself to smile confidently, tilting her head at an angle. "I'll do anything sexual, I don't need a million dollars to do it, either."

Claire's face is immediately a picture of contempt. "You're lying."

"I already have...I've done just about everything there is except a few things that are illegal...I'm a nymphomaniac!" She announces with a flourish, even daring to look Bender in the eye for a moment before turning her attention back to the snark filled redhead who didn't believe a word of it. Claire wavered for a moment, wondering whether she was telling the truth. First the vodka, now this.

Bender forced down the urge to laugh. Allison? A _nymphomaniac_? Not likely. Again, his mind flickered back to their impromptu kiss, and the expression on her face. He doubted if she'd even kissed a boy before that.

Still, Claire scoffs again. "Lie."

When Allison sees the look on Brian's face, one of the only people in this room who she actually held an ounce of respect for, she almost felt guilty. His forehead creased in concern.

"Are your parents aware of this?"

Allison considers this for a moment, before shaking her head. "The only person I told was my shrink." It wasn't a total lie on Allison's part. When she was 15, her parents had sent her to a shrink. She was the only one who encouraged her drawing. After that, her parents never sent her back.

"And what'd he do when you told him?" Andy asks, eyes narrowed. It was now the time for Allison to see how good her acting skills were. She let her eyes flicker close for one second, before composing herself. She couldn't let herself blush.

"He nailed me."

Claire speaks again. "Very nice."

"I don't think that from a legal standpoint what he did can be construed as rape since I paid him."

"He's an adult!" Claire exclaims. For a moment, she seems genuinely concerned. It makes Allison again feel slightly guilty, but she shakes herself internally. _Don't let these people get to you, _she tells herself harshly.

"He's married too."

"Do you have any idea how completely gross that is?"

"Well," Allison says, pretending to consider, "The first few times.."

"First few times? You mean he did it more than once?"

"Sure." Allison says. Brian jumps in next.

"Obviously she's crazy if she's screwing her shrink." This, she's sure of. She's pretty sure she is insane in some way or another.

It is then when Allison sits back, content for the moment. She steals a glance at Bender, who smirks at her. She simply tosses her hair and faces the other way.

* * *

It is after Allison makes her "confession" when Bender decides to step up the game. He does it when he is sure she is watching. Taking the back of Claire's head, he plants a kiss on her lips, and lingers there for a few moments. Allison bites back a squeak, and blinks back hot tears.

Her part in this sick, twisted "game" had only been words. His actions cut through her like the knife she had stolen from him earlier, and she hid behind a shelf of books, hiding the tears that had begun to flow. Glancing at the clock, she calculated that they had three hours left.

It was going to be a long day.


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N:**

**So this is a quick update, right?! :) You got me 26 reviews, thank you so much! I hope you enjoy this chapter.**

As soon as Allison saw their lips touch, she felt her stomach do a back flip, and her breath hitch in her throat. It wasn't as if she was expecting a big turn around - far from it. Allison just didn't think that he could go so low, hurt her so very _badly. _It had literally made her feel as if the rug had been pulled from right under her feet, and she'd landed straight on her butt. It left her with a bruised ego to go alongside it.

It wasn't unusual for her to feel so small and alone - her parents often made her feel this way, and she'd had years of experience in dealing with rejection in social situations - but she never imagined that he would be the one to leave her feeling this desperately empty and hollow. What hurt her the most was the fact that he hadn't even been looking at Claire while he kissed her. He had been looking directly into Allison's eyes, twisting the knife completely and utterly. Perhaps she should be used to this. Maybe she shouldn't have held such high expectations from what essentially was a stranger. Or maybe, just maybe, she should stop trusting anyone at all.

Though John Bender would never admit it, he regretted the kiss as soon as his mouth hit hers in an awkward embrace. It was sloppy and forced and when Claire's hand snaked round to lay on his back it gave him a shiver of repulsion. If he was completely and utterly truthful, he didn't quite know _why_ he'd done it. The thought of hurting Allison made him feel sick with this awful feeling that had never crossed him before. No, it had stumbled across him once before, when he'd accidentally shut his little cousin's fingers in the doorway. It was a horrible, stabbing feeling that left him devastated. The average person would call it guilt, or empathy. Bender called it strange.

Forcing her emotions to stay concealed, Allison made her way to the back of the library to be alone. Without being aware of it when she chose her spot, she sat next to a bookshelf that documented teen self help books. It almost made her laugh. She needed all the help she could get. Not wanting to watch the meaningless display of phony affection at the other end of the library, Allison simply counted down the minutes until Vernon would tell them all that they could leave. Bender turned away from Claire instantly, leaving her confused and flustered. Over this, he did not feel guilty. He only cared for Allison, though as stubborn as a mule, he'd never admit it.

Allison felt extremely conflicted. On one hand, she desperately wanted to leave detention, run away from him and the others, and crawl into her bed with a drawing pad, but on the other hand she knew that she wouldn't be able to. When detention _did _eventually end, her homecoming wouldn't be well received. Her mother would probably have her book club over at the house, discussing the pros and cons of their latest book. There would be a whole charade about Allison going to say hello and telling the posse of pretentious premenopausal 'ladies' of what wonderful charity work she'd been doing that morning, and why she hadn't quite been able to make that book club meeting today.

She would then be grilled on boys and grades and hobbies - none of which she had, because her mother would never accept that art is a hobby. "Doodling is most certainly _not _a past-time or hobby, dear," she'd say, her face pinched. Allison would simply nod and ignore her, hiding her ink laden arms under her sleeves and scampering up to her room, where she hoarded her art supplies like a squirrel with forbidden acorns.

Sighing, she took her bag from next to her, and dug in it to find her drawing book. When it was not immediately located, Allison began to panic - her heart rate sped up, and her palms began to sweat - this drawing pad was her only friend in the world. It contained all of her secrets, all of her emotions. Her soul, no matter how broken and bruised, was splashed on those very pages, splattered with the ink and graphite that she drew with. If she had lost her drawing pad today, then she didn't quite see how she was going to face the world anymore. To her, it wasn't just pictures and paper and paint. Her art was everything to her.

Shakily, Allison rises to her feet and uses the height of the upper level of the library to her advantage, scanning the whole room. Frustration bubbles beneath her surface as she sees Bender sitting at a desk, flipping through her sketch book. Shaking her head, she lets out a sound of irritation and blows air through her lips in order to keep her temper. In a rather cat like manner (come _on _now, she has to live up to her nickname), she stalks over to Bender confidently. As soon as his eyes meet hers, the confidence she was oh-so sure of just seconds ago simply melts away to a puddle at the bottom of her feet, surrounding her jelly like legs.

"You stole my book." Allison says. It was supposed to be big and brave, projecting her voice over to him menacingly. Truth be told, it came out as a little squeak, and her cheeks glowed red like it was a cold day. Even her ears tinged fuchsia.

Bender shrugs, leaning back on his chair. "You stole my knife."

Digging in her pocket, Allison retrieves the knife, and slams it down on the desk in front of him. "Have your stupid knife back then," she hisses, glancing around the room at the many pairs of eyes on her. It makes her heart ache with anxiety, but she pushes on, determined to get her book back.

Ignoring her comment, Bender continued. "There's a picture of me in there." He comments casually, though his own heart rate sped up considerably.

"I'm aware." Allison told him through gritted teeth. Bender smirked.

"I'll trade you this book." He says, and Allison rolls her eyes, pushing the knife more forward.

"I told you, have your stupid knife."

"No," Bender says. "I'll trade you your book for a kiss. Right now, right here...with people staring. I'll trade you your book back for one single kiss. What do you say?"


	14. Chapter 14

A thousand thoughts flashed through Allison's mind at that one moment, buzzing around her head like a swarm of angry bees. "What?" She stammered, her eyes daring to stare into his. She lowered her voice to a whisper, her voice strained. "Please, don't,"

Bender wavered for a moment, narrowing his eyes in consideration. "You heard me."

"John," Allison murmured, and he felt his stomach flip at hearing her say his name, a sensation that was neither bad or familiar. Sure, he'd felt a horrible twisting feeling in his gut when he heard his father slam the door or yell a string of curse words, but he'd never felt his stomach back flip like that, apart from when she said his name like that. "Don't do this."

Her hand reached out, and he snatched the book from her reach. Allison shook her head minutely to herself, and sighed. She hadn't actually been reaching for her sketchbook, and once again tried to grasp for his hand. This time, he stayed still and silent. Anxiety bubbled beneath Allison's calm exterior; her fingers shook as she curled them around his, and she breathed in deeply. The scent of his cologne filled her nostrils and it slowed her heart rate as she remembered those days and nights spent so close to him.

Biting the bullet and setting her anxieties aside, Allison leaned her head in and pecked him on the lips. Though it only lasted a second, and it was more like a child being dared to kiss the boy from across the street than a lusty teenage lip-lock, it surprised the both of them. "Oh," Bender says in surprise, not knowing what else to say.

Allison smirked in spite of her shaking hands and sweaty palms, and the heat rose to her cheeks. Holding her hand out, she smiled sweetly. "My book, please," she says calmly. The expression that crossed Bender's face was half amused, half annoyed. Allison did not expect Bender to actually hand over her sketch book, and so when he did, she smiled happily, her whole face lighting up. Standing, she raised her eyebrow and motioned for Bender to follow her.

Allison walked slowly to a corner of the library, with Bender trailing slowly behind her, watching her every move careful. He watched how she walked, how she looked to the ground, how she curled her pale hand into a fist as she concentrated on getting to her destination and not on the many pairs of eyes that were glued to her small, dark frame.

"I don't want to fight with you." Allison says to him quietly, her voice wavering on the last word. "I don't know what I did wrong."

Bender, although hurt by her comment about not knowing what she had done wrong, felt anger stirring within him. "You acted as if you were...you..."

Never one to voice his true feelings, Bender grappled for the right words to say, struggling greatly to find words to correctly express his feelings towards her. Allison waited patiently, gently encouraging him with a nod. "Go on,"

"You acted as if you weren't the same." Bender says mechanically, trying not to let any emotion seep into his words, that, while being meaningful, sounded robotic. "The same as the rest."

Allison laughed humorlessly, a sour expression washing over her delicate features. A smile skimps Bender's own features for half a second, long enough for her to see it, but not long enough for her to memorize it for a sketch. "Who are "_the rest"?"_ Allison asks, her words dripping with a non verbal contempt. "We've been brainwashed, you know," she states, leaning back onto one of the many book shelves. Bender shakes his head, lights up a cigarette, and raises his eyebrows, a gesture she takes as if to say, "continue."

"Brainwashed." Allison repeats, sighing, and taking a drag from his cigarette. She blows out the smoke with a small cough, and he smiles for a second. "Mm."

"How so?"

"You..." Allison begins, her eyes scanning the library for something, anything, to take her mind off the fact that he was biting his lip as he listened to her. "You think you're so _different _to me."

He scoffs, but then catches himself. "And I'm not?"

"Nope.." Allison shakes her head. Bender wonders what is going through her mind as she speaks, because she talks in a way that he had never come across before. Her words were never rushed, never meaningless. Everything she said was carefully thought through, meticulously and scrupulously combed through to find the exact right words, strung together in a perfectly coherent sentence. "You're stupid, and so am I."

Or, at least, most of the time.

"What?" Bender laughs.

"It's very simple." Allison sighs. "We believe what we're told. When we're little, we believe that our parents are the bravest, most wonderful people in the world. When we're ten or eleven, we believe that the world is full of hope. And now? We believe that each of us in this room is different. Well, I'll grant you - we're different now. There's a criminal - that's you. A basketcase, moi. There's also a princess, an athlete, and a brain. And _yes, _we're all so different and you're not getting straight As and I can't dress like I stepped out of a magazine, and the world is absolutely _brimming _with possibility and hope..but do you think we'll all be so different in five years from here? Ten? _Nope. _Because when you grow up, your heart...it dies."

Allison shakes her head. Bender doesn't speak. He wants to hear her speak more, because she's speaking so much sense and to be perfectly honest, he could listen to her soft voice all day long. "If that doesn't bother you, then I don't know what will..." she continues, close to tears. "I care. I care that my heart is going to die. I want the world to be full of possibility and hope and yet all I can get is a room full of judgmental stereotypes." She shakes her head. "I wanna see the world, John. I don't want to die before I've lived."

Before he even knows what he is doing, he makes a promise that he knows will be the only promise he'll keep in his whole life. He promises to show her the world, and he intends to make good on every single word he's said.

**A/N:  
**

**Sooo...I hope you like this. Allison's words may or may not reflect my own attitude! Haha. I do hope you like the chapter and thank you all for the kind words, it really inspires me!**


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N:**

**I told you I'd update this week, and I have, so here you go :)**

Allison nods in light of Bender's recent promise. Her lips press together in a thin line as she looks at him, nodding again. Her hair falls over her eyes and Bender is utterly confused. He had put his heart on the line for her, and she was simply sitting there, nodding like Churchill the nodding dog. It was only when a lone tear dropped splashed - _drip, drop - _to the floor, when he realized that she was hiding her eyes because she was crying.

"Hey," Bender says, his voice so gentle he even surprises himself. He brushes her hair from her face, and she flinches. Bender's hand freezes above her left cheek, but she leans into his touch. "What's your deal?" To him, Allison was a walking contradiction. One minute she was ranting about things that - while they did not mean much to him - seemed to mean a great deal to her, and the next she was a crying mess with her unruly hair covering her face.

"My _deal?" _Allison scoffs. Once again, Bender is confused. _Now she's angry_, he thinks, _and I have no idea how to fix it. _Yet tears still pool in her brown eyes, and she doesn't seem mad. If anything, she seems defeated, finally sighing sadly. "I'm tired of people making empty promises."

"Right." Bender nods. He feels a sharp sting from her words - much like when you get burned. Perhaps he doesn't have the best track record, but something inside of him says that he won't be just the next person in a long line of people to disappoint her. Even so, he can't help shutting down when he hears her hurtful words, not letting her know just how she's affected him.

Allison glances at him, and raises an eyebrow. She bites her lip, and looks to the ground. "Don't do that."

"Do _what?" _Bender snaps, taking one final drag of his cigarette before carelessly stubbing it out as he stands.

"Don't shut me out because I said something you don't want to hear!" She watches his back as he walks away, and frowns. "And don't walk away while I'm talking to you!" It's the first time he's heard her raise her voice. A smile plays on his lips, and he doesn't turn around until it fades. When he does turn, all she sees is a blank canvas where his expression should be.

"I'm not walking away if you follow me," Bender shrugs, and Allison, though she narrows her eyes, begins to walk after him. He strolls down the stairs, across the front of the room, and out of the door. Claire watches Bender, as does Allison, who glances nervously at her detention-mates.

"Where is he going?" Claire asks, annoyance coloring her tone. Allison shrugs hastily and follows him, her footsteps silent compared to his boots that hit the floor in a _clomp-clomp_ every time he moves.

"John!" Allison calls, looking around the hallway worriedly, "Where are we going?"

"Anywhere but here," he replies, stopping and letting her catch up. "Where do you wanna go?" A twinkle comes to her dark eyes, and she rocks on her heels.

"_Weelll..."_

* * *

An hour later, Bender stood in front of a painting in a gallery, arms crossed. "I could draw that." He observes, raising an eyebrow. "It's just scribbles."

Allison laughs, and for the first time, he sees a lighter side to her. "No, it's not. It's amazing!" She sighs wistfully, spinning to look around the room. "One day, my drawings will be here, you know." She smiles, as if imagining her own work on the walls. In her mind, she wonders if she really was delusional, as her mother told her, if her drawings would ever be good enough to hang on the walls.

"They shouldn't be," Bender mutters, looking around the room. "They're much better than this."

Allison glows with pride, smiling up at him for a fleeting moment. Bender smiles sheepishly, embarrassed, and his wallet chain jingles as he walks around, his interest masked by a bored exterior. "You think so?"

"You don't?" He asks casually, winking at her as he turns a corner. Allison smiles at his back, and follows him.

"My parents always told me I wasn't a good artist," she sighs, and she blushes, having talked without even thinking about her words. "Most of the time, though, they ignore me." She smiles at him. "Lucky me."

"That sounds like legit happiness right there," he deadpans. He pulls up his sleeve, revealing many scars and fresh wounds. He points to one of the reddest, the most painful looking welt Allison had ever seen. It vaguely reminded her of the time she'd burned herself when she went camping as a young child, when her mother had rushed into their camp site in the middle of the night just to kiss it better. That in turn made her wonder where it had all gone so wrong - was she so far from that girl that her mother wanted nothing more to do with her? "Do count yourself lucky though, babe. This is what I get at home. I think I'd rather be ignored."

Her stomach flips like she's on a roller coaster as she takes a proper look at the burn. She sighs sadly, and pulls him out of the gallery and into the street. "Come on,"

* * *

They find their way back to the river where they shared their first kiss. Allison gently pulls his sleeve back once again and uses the water from the river to clean it, apologising every two minutes.

"I'm sorry," she says for the fifth time, glancing up to meet his eyes and flashing him a sympathetic smile. Bender shrugs, and saves his grimaces for when she is busy dabbing at the wound with a tissue, and placing a band-aid over it.

"It's fine."

"It's _not _fine," Allison protests, pulling his sleeve down once again. "You're in pain." Bender shrugs again.

"Life isn't always happy, is it?"

"I think we could find happiness," she says quietly, daring to look him in the eye. "I think we could find it together." She leans against him, sighing deeply.

Bender nods, looking down at the small girl leaning on his chest. "I guess we could give that a go."

And Allison would take those words from him over a big romantic gesture from anyone else any day.


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N:**

**Hey, guys. I've been really busy these past few weeks and it's only going to get busier unfortunately, so I won't be able to update really much at all. I'll try, though.**

**To the anonymous reviewer who asked how many flashbacks there are going to be - I'm sorry that it took me so long to reply - I could only reply via this note seeing as you're anonymous, but I haven't forgotten what story I'm writing, don't worry. I have it all planned out; it's just a slow-paced story cause I'm in no rush to have it finished. I hope that you continue to read and like the story even if there are a few more flashbacks left. **

**~ Caitlin**

* * *

Allison dangles her feet into the slow paced river, leaning back against Bender, and against her better judgement. Bender stares down at the girl in his arms, and wonders if next week she'll be ignoring him again. There hasn't been one girl in the entire world who he's ever felt this way about, and yet he can't bring himself to admit it. When there's a chance of happiness, there's a bigger chance of getting hurt, and he is not willing to take that risk, even if he can't help smiling as he watches her splashing her feet in the water like a child.

"You know," she says quietly, "We should go back." Bender nods.

"But where would be the fun in that?" He asks, letting his face bask in the sunshine. He glances at her face, which is creased with worry. "Sure." Bender says, beginning to stand. "We can go back if that's what you want."

"It is." Allison says, her dark hair falling in front of her eyes. "Sorry."

Bender glances at her, shaking his head. He never really is sure what she's thinking, and this time he's still not entirely sure what she's apologizing for; be it the fact that she wants to go back to detention or for the mere fact that she had told him. "Don't be." He says easily.

* * *

Only an hour and a half had passed since they left detention, and predictably, Vernon hadn't checked on them once, preferring to stay holed up in his office with a cup of coffee that tasted vile and a pile of pencils to stack. Bender strolled in looking completely at ease with Allison trailing behind, biting her lip. Claire glances up, her eyes narrowed.

"I can't believe you didn't get caught," she complains. "Where would you even go? It's not like she has a lot to talk about."

Allison shrugs, turning red under Claire's eagle-eyed gaze. Andy looks over as well, resting his chin on his hands, looking bored and interested at the same time.

"Maybe not." Bender says, his voice void of any emotion. "But she's still more interesting than you."

* * *

Soon, detention finishes, and the group disperses. Allison, while wanting to get as far away from everyone as possible, hangs behind, totally unsure of where to go. Bender watches her while she dithers, wondering whether to stop her thought processes before she gets herself into a state.

He does. "Come on, Ali."

Allison offers him a small smile. "Where are we going?"

"Your place?" Bender suggests, his face deadly serious. Allison's face drops, and she bites her lip anxiously. Bender smirks. "Just kidding."

* * *

It doesn't take long to get to Bender's house, and no-one is home when they get there. Briefly, Allison wonders if her mother is watching the door, waiting for her to come home and say hello to her book club buddies. It's the third Saturday of the month, her mother's turn to host the club. Her eyes flit to Bender's face, and she pushes the thought out of her mind. Bender leads her to the living room, where he switches on the old TV by hitting it and drops to sit on the couch.

"Your house...is nice," Allison offers, sitting down primly on the couch. She doesn't think of herself as particularly high class, even if her mother's ostentatious nature and her father's need to have a freshly pressed tie every morning contradicted this, but Bender couldn't help but see her mother when she tried to keep herself as contained as possible, keeping her hands on her lap and her feet together.

Bender laughs, leaning back. His face looks serene and relaxed as he stays calm, watching the TV. Though she doesn't hear the door as quickly as he does, Allison does notice the change in his facial expression. His lips, which were quirked into a small half smile before, turn downwards, and his eyes narrow and fly to the doorway.

Stumbling and drunk, Bender's father bursts through the door. Bender immediately jumps up, looking startled. Allison's own heart leaps, and she stares, open mouthed, at the drunken man who she knows terrifies Bender. Her heart breaks when she spots the look on his face, his lip pulled into his mouth in an anxious pout, and his forehead creased in concern.

"_Who _is _she?" _Bender's father booms, his voice cracking the strained silence that had fallen upon the room. The only sound that resounded now was the faraway voices emitting from the television, which floated in the air as Allison tried to concentrate on what was going on.

_Oh god, _she thinks, _I should have just gone home. _

Bender watches his father warily, standing at an angle where Allison is firmly planted behind him, and out of harm's way. "She was just leaving." He says evenly, though his clenched fists shake at his sides. Bender's father laughs, his voice deep and intimidating. Suddenly, he lunges towards the slight girl, making a grab towards her.

Allison, despite herself, squeals. Hearing her little squeak of distress, something inside Bender snaps. He doesn't, as he usually does, just stand and let his dad get on with it, ignoring the punches and hits and lunges. This time, John swings for his father.

Allison's eyes widen, and her mouth opens in shock. Despite his drunkenness, Bender's father manages to miss the punch. His eyes narrow at his only son, and he takes a swing towards him. Unfortunately for Bender, the hit makes it to him. Unprepared to embarrass himself further, Bender takes it, his nose beginning to drip red blood. He falls to the ground, hitting his head squarely on the side table. Allison watches the table wobble on its uneven legs. Her gaze falls to Bender, out cold, on the floor.

Her gaze then makes its way to his father, who smirks at her. "So, I guess we're alone now?" He grins. Allison smiles weakly, swallows, and bites her lip, wondering what on earth she had let herself in for.


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N:**

**The reason this took so long, along with me being _soooo _damn busy all the time at the moment, was because I was really torn on how to take this story. I had an idea but I wasn't sure how you guys would react to it. But I decided to include it and you'll be happy to know this is the very last flashback chapter.**

**Enjoy **

**~ Caitlin**

Allison kneels on the floor, cradling Bender's head in her lap and stroking his forehead. Had he been awake, Allison probably would not have shown such affection. However, seeing him, so vulnerable, lying on the floor, made Allison feel weak, and she could not help herself from dropping to her knees and touching his already bruising face.

She barely hears the throaty laugh above her. "Now that's what I call a Fender Bender."

Allison glances up at Bender's father, glaring at him. She murmurs a few words of vague comfort in Bender's direction and then turns her attention to finding a way of leaving. As much as she didn't want to leave Bender alone with his father, especially unconscious, but she was running out of ideas as to how she was going to stay without angering Mr Bender further. Peeking up at him again, she notices that he is slowly ambling out of the room.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Allison lets herself think properly for a moment. Instead of coming up with a feasible plan, Allison simply stares down at the boy in her lap. She gently strokes his forehead, brushing away stray hairs. There's nothing more she'd like to be doing at that moment, if only he were awake. Internally, she laughs. _You'd never be this brave, _she tells herself, shaking her head. Too busy stroking his cheek, Allison doesn't notice the man stepping back into the room, surprisingly light-footed for such a size.

"He'll never look at you like that." Mr Bender sneers. He looks her up and down, his wandering eyes judging every inch of her body. She squirms uncomfortably under his gaze, her forehead wrinkling in worry and eyes widening ever so slightly in surprise. "You're too good for him anyway. I'll bet you've never even been with a boy before. Him? That boy's been with every girl in a five mile radius." He laughs, which soon turns into a coughing fit. "He takes after his old man."

Allison almost chokes on the smell of his breath, saturated with the stench of alcohol. It almost burned her eyes and she turned away, less than tactfully. She regrets it as soon as the look on Mr Bender's face changes from a relaxed laugh to a pinched frown.

"You might be better than my son, girly, but you're not better than me."

Allison swallows, trying to think of the right words to say. As she's grappling for words, Mr Bender's roaming eyes scan across her body. Though it is swamped in a shroud of black clothes, Allison still wriggles uncomfortably under his gaze. He steps closer to her, and she flinches, scrambling to her feet. As he approaches her, slowly like a hunter approaching his prey, she holds her breath. Somehow, her feet won't move even though her heart is pounding in her chest and her head is telling her, _move, move, move. _

The look in his eye unnerves her, and she glances at the boy unconscious on the floor, praying that he wakes. He doesn't as much as twitch and Allison could almost laugh at her bad luck. His hand reaches out, and Allison squeezes her eyes closed, hearing and feeling the fabric of her skirt ripping. It takes her back to that alleyway all those days ago. Only this time, there would be no Bender helping her this time - no, he was out cold - and Mr Bender was much bigger than a teenage boy looking for kicks.

She's left with her skirt torn at the side, squeezing her eyes shut. Hands roam over her skin, every single inch of her skin, over her chest, under her skirt, and she shudders, feeling disgusted and filthy. Harsh lips kiss at her face, bite at her mouth. Her breath was quick and she thought hard about what she was going to do. Her t-shirt was already torn and there were only a few minutes before something truly awful happened.

All her strength seemed to build up in one big push as she heaved the drunk man off of her. Scrambling to her unsteady feet, Allison shakes uncontrollably. Before she gets completely steady, her ankle is grabbed. Mr Bender stumbles to his feet unsteadily, his hand tightening around his wrist. "If you tell _anyone, anything _about this," he says sinisterly, slurring his words. "You will regret it."

Her hands tremble as she struggles to grab her coat from the side, giving Bender one last glance as she scurried out of the door. As she turned the handle and ran down the street, tears pouring down her pale cheeks as she breathes heavily from both the running and the shock. She worries about how she's going to explain her clothes to her mother when she eventually turns up at home. She worries about Bender, out cold, lying on the floor next to his very drunk father. She worries about how she will ever get the feeling of hands running over her bare skin off of her.

She worries all the way home, as she drags her feet, and she worries in the shower as she scrubs her skin raw. She worries as she faces her mother in only a towel, wrapping the fluffy cotton tighter around herself in an attempt to hide the bruises. She worries as she climbs into bed that night, as her skin crawls.

The worries even creep into her dark, scary dreams, and haven't left her since.


	18. Chapter 18

Allison stares into the eyes of a boy she hasn't seen in weeks. He stares back blankly, looking at her like he's never spoken to her or seen him once in his life. While it hurts her, and she desperately tries to get him to look at her with some spark of recognition, however small it might have been. He doesn't listen to her silent pleas, and breaks eye contact by making a face at Claire. Allison continues to stare, looking at his forehead for any trace of a scar, a yellowing bruise or a healing cut. There wasn't. It was almost as if she had imagined the whole thing, everything that happened between them. Absent-mindedly, her hand brushes over a fading bruise of her own, and she shivers despite it being her own hand, her own fingers brushing over her own pale skin. Even the gentlest touch made her skin crawl.

Unbeknownst to Allison, she was being watched out of the corner of Bender's eye. He saw the shiver that ripped through her spine, the horror on her face as she relives the moment when she was violated by someone she didn't even know. By someone who had hurt her before, without even knowing her, by hurting the boy she wanted so badly to be with. Of course, Bender didn't know that was why her face fell. He didn't have a clue. He only knew that she hadn't spoken to him in weeks. He had filled his time with annoying Mr Vernon, parties that he didn't actually enjoy that much anymore, kissing random girls half-heartedly and dodging his parents. Not that that was very difficult. His parents preferred to pretend they didn't have a son just as he preferred to pretend he didn't have parents whose greatest regret was him.

Glancing up from her just opened sketchbook, Allison caught Bender's eyes watching her carefully. Blushing, she stared back down at the blank page in front of her, willing the picture to draw itself. Drawing had been a secondary hobby now, taking a back seat to worrying and hoping to forget Bender and his father. Unfortunately, even with all of the energy it consumed, she hadn't forgotten, and, though she was totally exhausted mentally and physically, she couldn't get a good night's sleep. It was simply impossible. Her thoughts took up most of the night and when she finally closed her eyes, nightmares pressed on the back of her eyelids. When she looked back up from her book, she gave a start. Bender stood in front of her, his face a question mark.

"You look at me but you won't talk to me. You ignore everything I do, good or bad. I haven't seen you in weeks and yet when I think back, nothing happened. Nothing happened that could have made you think I was that awful that you can't even spit in my direction and tell me I'm an idiot? I don't understand you. Honestly, babe," he sighs, sounding absolutely exasperated though not quite being brave enough to look her in the eye..

Allison almost cries on hearing the word "babe". She so badly wanted to speak to him, but _his _words still echoed in her head. "If you ever tell anyone, anything…"

In her mind, it didn't bear thinking about. She simply shook her head silently, exactly as she had been for weeks now. Completely and utterly frightened into a radio silence. He shook his head too, but in exasperation and anger.

_She _had been the one who hadn't spoken to him in months, _she _was the one who ignored every look he gave her, and _she _was the one who wouldn't even tell him what he had supposedly done wrong. So why did he feel so hopeless? Why did he ache to know what he had done, to fix it? And while these thoughts swam around in his head, making him feel dizzy, the same familiar frown stayed stuck in place, his brown eyes still hard and staring.

She had no idea what he was feeling. All she saw was the frown, the narrow eyes, and the shake of his head. It replayed in her head over and over, making her head feel fuzzy. He watched her staring blankly back at him, pleading silently for her to say something, anything, just to make him understand.

He'd never tell her that, of course.

From a young age, he'd always been told to keep his mouth shut, to never let anyone see your weakness. Emotion was for girls. If his dad ever saw him cry, even as a little boy, he'd sneer and Bender would probably end up with a fist shaped bruise somewhere hidden to the outside world by ragged clothes that his mother picked up from the thrift store, throwing them in his direction whenever she wasn't drunk.

"We've got almost eight hours together." He raises his eyebrows. "I'm sure you can't resist me for every one of them, can you?"

Her anger flares, and she silently rages, seeing how undoubtedly self assured he could be. She opens her mouth to disagree, but snaps it closed again before a sound has a chance to escape. She knew what he was doing. Trying to get her so angry that she'd argue with him.

She almost wished it had worked, and that she could tell him all the things that had happened. She thought about all the sleepless nights she'd had, and the deep longing to speak to him when she saw him in the cafeteria at lunch while she sat alone. Allison watches him carefully. She doesn't see anger on his face, just a lot of confusion and conflict. Taking a deep, steadying breath, Allison opens her mouth.

The time for truth had arrived.

**A/N:**

**Aloha.  
I didn't really like this chapter that much, but I hope you did! Happy Easter! I'm supposed to be doing revision. But oh well.**

**See you another time!**

**~ Caitlin**


	19. Chapter 19

An uncomfortable silence fell over the both of them like snow on a winter's day. "You don't believe me." Allison whispers, staring at him from under her fringe with her head bowed.

"No." John says uncomfortably. "I believe you." Allison doesn't reply, instead choosing to simply watch as the cogs turn inside of his mind as he tries to figure out what to do for the best. It doesn't look as if he's going to find the right answer very soon, and so Allison backs off.

"It's okay," she says in a tiny whisper, not quite daring to look at him in the eyes because if she did, she just _knew _that she would cry. "If you don't want to talk to me any more."

Bender shakes his head, anger bubbling beneath his surface. Between gritted teeth, Bender says, "I wasn't the one who ignored you. I wasn't the one who didn't talk to you. Don't you _dare _put that on me."

Allison looks at him, slightly bewildered. If he believed her, then why was he so angry? Why was he questioning _her? She _hadn't done anything wrong. "You're getting angry at the wrong person." Allison mutters, not bothering to look at him. Bender shakes his own head.

"No, I'm not." He sighs. "My dad's always been deadbeat. Doesn't surprise me. You said you weren't. Said you were different." He looks into the distance, feeling awkward as he lets his true feelings shine through for once. He hated the way she made him feel sometimes, so small and not Mr Tough Guy so much any more, especially when her brown eyes broke away at his mean exterior. "Though clearly you're just like Cherry because on Monday, everything went back to normal."

"What about _you?" _She hisses, her tone even surprising herself. "You didn't talk to me. You ignored me just as much as I ignored you, you just don't wanna admit that you're just as shallow as "Cherry","

He doesn't reply, unable to find the right words though he desperately grapples for them. "No."

"_Yes." _She readjusts her bag on her shoulder, and sighs in irritation, letting her feelings show on her face, which is angry and wearing a hardened expression. "You may not want to admit it, but you don't want to talk to me in front of your friends just as much as Claire. Even more so, probably." She blinks back tears once again, and just like him, curses him for the way he makes her feel, the only person able to make her feel that way. He glares at her, but he's the first to break, especially when seeing the tears in her once warm eyes, and looks away before speaking.

"Fine. Maybe I am, but you are too. You didn't talk to me, either, if you're on too high of a horse to remember, Miss Priss. You're embarrassed too."

"Ha!" Allison says, blinking away tears as she looks away. "I don't _have _any friends to impress." He nods, not quite feeling bad enough to say anything, but not mean enough to make a remark. He runs his hands through his hair and exhales deeply through his nose, his nostrils flaring.

"Look." He says, coughing awkwardly. "I know I'm getting mad at the wrong person, okay?"

"He...he said I had to keep my mouth shut." Allison murmurs, looking down. He gently lifts her chin.

"He's a pathetic excuse for a human. Like the brownie hound." He throws his fist down on the table, quickly growing angrier by the moment. "I didn't help you." Allison says nothing, just stares. He shakes his head. "I can't sit here for eight more hours."

"Seven hours forty three minutes, actually," Allison smirks. Bender makes a face, and sighs, leaning back on his chair. He takes a drag from his cigarette, offering it to her afterwards. She scoffs.

"No, thanks. Haven't you seen the news?"

"Well, I usually catch it every day but lately I must've been missing it." He raises an eyebrow and takes another drag. "Why?" He tips the ash to the floor, barely paying attention to what he's doing.

"Because they're _bad _for you," she says, snatching the cigarette from his hand and stubbing it out with her foot. He doesn't react instantly, but frowns.

"Brave Alley Cat." He sits forward, facing her properly. "If you're feeling brave, how bout we get out of here?"

Curious about where he would take her this time, Allison smiles. "Where to?"

"Well," he says, pretending to be deep in thought. "I thought we could catch up on the news."

"Ha ha." Allison says, frowning at him. "Take me to your favorite place." He smiles at her, a rare sight, and nods.

"My favorite place, hmm?"

"I took you to mine," she reminds him, clutching her bag to her chest defensively. "My river."

"I remember," he assures her. "But I don't think I have a favorite place. I don't get attached. You know, it's easier that way."

"Throw yourself a pity party another time, John," Allison sings, rolling her eyes so far back that Bender thinks they might roll into the back of her head. "You're lying to me." She's not angry, he thinks, a small smile daring to taint his features for a millisecond. She sounds more like a child who isn't getting what she wants.

"Maybe," he says. "But I really don't think I have a favorite place." Allison shakes her head, unable to believe him.

"Where do you go when you're sad? Happy? Wanting to escape? Do you not have a place that you'd call home if you had to?"

_The end of a bottle of vodka, _Bender thinks bitterly. He doesn't say this aloud, preferring to humor her for the time being. "Well..."

**A/N:**

**Hey guys...My exams are finally over! Well, they were over on the 19th, but anyway. I hope you like this chapter, it's lots and lots of talking and not much else. But it leads on to the next chapter which I hope you will like too. Tell me what you think Bender's favorite place will be?! :)**

**I hope you have a lovely day and leave a review for a sneak peek of the next chapter!**


	20. Chapter 20

"Here it is," Bender says, letting go of Allison's hand. She opens her mouth to say something, but closes it again. This happens a few times before she manages to string a sentence together.

"_This _is your favourite place?" Allison's astonished voice asks. "It's, um..." She looks around the junk yard, surveying all of the trash and discarded possessions, trying not to look disgusted because she knows he'll call her out on it. "Nice," she finishes, a pained look on her face.

Bender laughs, watching Allison looking around. "It's not as pretty as your river, I'll grant you," he says through his laughter. "But it's my place, and this is as good as it gets."

"But why?" Allison says, a frown etching on her face as she screws up her nose to escape the metallic, rusty smell.

"Listen," he says, kicking the dirt. "I never had fun days out when I was a kid. Not those camps that you were probably sent to-"

"Sent _away _to." Allison corrects, interrupting with a scowl.

"Whatever. I didn't have toys and day trips to the Ritz. I had my sister, who liked to make art out of weird things, mainly junk. She made whatever she could afford to. Sometimes I tagged along with her, and hung around with the employees." A smile etches onto his face, gone before it's really appreciated, but there nonetheless. "I guess they knew that home wasn't where the heart was, and they told me and my sister to come back whenever."

A sad smile washes over Allison's face as she imagines a little version of John, probably covered in reminders of what happens when you misbehave at home, which is probably what alerted the men to his home situation. Bender lights a cigarette and looks around at his old childhood haunt, a look of recognition on his face.

"I came back all the time, just hanging around them and listening into their conversations, not that I ever knew who they were talking about. Haven't been in years."

Allison's eyebrows knit together and she wonders why his visits stopped, because a fondness has come over John that she's never seen him hold for anything else. "Why?"

"I only really came to see one guy, some oldie named Carl." He shakes his head. "He kicked the bucket when I was about eleven. Didn't see the point in coming back."

"Oh, John..." Allison says, reaching out her hand in comfort. He turns away from her, taking another drag from his cigarette and taking in the scenery. Her hand slowly drops down, and her eyes drop to the floor, watching his feet as they shuffle awkwardly in the dirt.

He doesn't look like her, standing in the junk yard. He doesn't look out of place and out of his depth. He looks perfectly natural as he stands to face the sunset. She watches his coat flap in the wind, and wonders if he'll ever truly open up to her like she would like him to.

She decides probably not, and steps forward to take the first step towards a closer bond, which she craves.

"I wanted to tell you this earlier, when you were talking about when you were a kid, about you and your sister...but I didn't want to ruin the moment. I wanted to know everything, hope that it'd work out and that I wouldn't think we were so different, so alien. But we are. Anyway, when I was little, I used to go horseback riding." She says, smiling at him ruefully. Bender turns to face her, his piqued interest stronger than his urge for indifference to every situation. He smiles back, unsure of where she's going with this but willing to listen nonetheless. "I loved it. I never really thought about the dangers, just about the little things I loved; the sound of the gravel beneath my feet, the smell of fresh hay, and the way the horses neighed from over the stable door. Anyway, I used to ride this naughty pony who kicked and reared and bucked me off so many times I lost count."

A smile forms on her lips and she sighs, recalling the memory. "Eventually, they got me some reins that were supposed to stop it. I learned the hard way that they didn't work, not even a bit, but still I would ask for them and be disappointed. They made me feel safe, secure. Even though I knew it would never work, and that I could get hurt." She looks at him, sincerity in her eyes. "I think that's what's happening with you and me."

"How do you mean?"

"I know we're never going to work. It's just never going to happen and I'm going to be disappointed. But you're like my security blanket. You make me feel safe even if I can get hurt, even if getting hurt is the most likely outcome."

He sighs. "So what now?"

"The same thing that happened with the horses, I suppose."

"And what's that?"

"We move on and accept that the bruises we got will fade and disappear in time and the memories will become hazy, but know that the scars that we received will simply lighten and be constant reminders of what happened. Of how much it hurt at the time, and of how far we've come. Safe in the knowledge that the memories will become just that - phrases and faces, sparks of recognition in pictures unlike the crystal image we remember here and now."

"Are you saying what I think you're saying?" Bender asks cautiously. "That we shouldn't see each other?" There is no emotion in his voice, but the crinkle of his eyes tell Allison that he cares.

"No," she says finally, shaking her head. "I don't want to miss you like that."

**_A/N:_**

**_Alright, it's a little bit of a filler, but I hope you like it anyway! It's so HOT today, I thought I'd sit and just write. So I hope you like it, and that you're having a nice day! _**

**_~ Caitlin _**


	21. Chapter 21

Why did everything have to be so _complicated? _Allison thinks, cursing herself for saying anything at all because now she's screaming at him and he's looking like he couldn't care less whether she's dead or alive but she knows, oh she _knows, _that he wants to be with her.

After that conversation in the junk yard, an argument had broken out about the direction of their relationship, the both of them feeling frustrated and alone in the world. They'd both said _horrible terrible _things about one another and now she's telling him that she hates everything about him, from his mess of hair to his dumb boots.

His nostrils flare in anger and he lunges forward. A squeak of surprise escapes her lips and she wonders what he's going to do. A thrill of excitement and fear sends a shiver down her spine, but before she can ask him what he thinks he's doing, she's cut off by his lips on hers.

One part of her wants to yell at him, to scream, "What are you doing?" because she's just so mad right now, but the other part of her wants to just let this happen and to see where it's all going. She gives into the latter side of her, her knees weak and wobbly. Her eyes watch carefully at first, looking into his deep brown eyes. Her eyes close, losing herself in the moment and the realization that he's the only person that she really has ever wanted to trust with her secrets and life.

Before she even realizes it - she's lost in the wonderland of her own thoughts too deeply to notice reality - her jacket is on the dusty ground, her arms still wrapped tightly around his neck. He watches as his hands grapple at her shirt and then that's on the ground next to her jacket in a little heap of darkness. Now she feels just so _exposed _to the elements, her alabaster skin almost shimmering in the half light of the late afternoon. Her arms disconnect from behind his neck and she hugs herself, almost shivering though summer isn't over and the sun is giving an orange glow to the sky.

Though his crude comments to Claire and his use of innuendo in almost every situation, Allison breathes a sigh of relief when John acts like the perfect gentleman. Well, as perfect as anyone could expect from a teenage boy. "You don't want to?" He asks. There's no anger in his voice, no disappointment. Allison shakes her head, and he doesn't know if that means no, she doesn't want to, or no, that's not right. Allison almost feels disappointed herself, simply because he sounds so indifferent.

_Has he been with so many girls that he doesn't really care if I won't do it?_ Allison thinks. But then she looks into his eyes, sees him removing his own coat and draping it over her shoulders. He doesn't see the cogs working in her mind, he only sees the shivers running down her spine and the little frown forming on her features. A smile spreads across her lips and she leans in, placing a short kiss on his lips. It catches him by surprise but he pulls her in closer anyway.

"John Bender," Allison says seriously, a small smile hidden on by the sleeve on his coat. "You are the sweetest boy I've ever met."

* * *

Allison stares ahead, her head on Bender's shoulder. Her eyes rummage through the junk, seeing if there was anything she could use for her projects. Both teenagers sit on the floor, Bender with his long legs stretched out in front of him, Allison cross legged. Her head snaps up as she hears the sound of footsteps and an argument and they both jump to their feet.

A familiar face turns round the corner and Allison's face lights up, a radiant smile stretching over her features. "Brian!" Allison cries, grinning at him. She hadn't had much of a chance to see him since that very first detention, and she felt bad about it. He really was a sweetie. While he was in the middle of an argument with his little sister, who hangs off of his free hand, he stops to smile at her.

"Oh hey, Allison! Bender?" He asks, craning his neck to see Bender, who stands behind Allison. "I know Claire joked about you taking her to see some heavy metal, but I don't think this is what she meant." A goofy smile spreads over his face.

"Yeah..." Allison says awkwardly, not quite knowing what Bender would want her to say about their relationship. She shakes her head, still smiling. "Anyway, what are _you _doing here?"

"I thought you'd be volunteering somewhere, perfecting your college applications." Bender says dryly. Brian shrugs, juggling the mess of wires and metal he holds in his hands.

"I-I was clearing stuff out...had to get rid of this lamp." He trails off. "Lizzie kept trying to play with it," he frowns, throwing it down on the floor next to the other junk. The little girl tries to grab it from the floor, but Brian pulls her back gently. When she's standing next to him again, she grins at Allison, tugging at Brian's hand.

"She hasn't got any clothes on!" Lizzie yells, throwing her head back laughing. Allison's cheeks glow red, her eyes widening as she pulls Bender's coat around her tighter.

Brian's eyes widen as well, and he starts to stutter. "Um-Lizzie, I-I'm sure that's not true." He points to a clear spot about three meters away. "Go play over there for a minute." When she's out of earshot, Brian scratches the back of his neck. "So I um, better leave you two alone."

"No!" Allison says. "We'll go to a cafe or something. I want to catch up. You come too, John," she smiles.

"You might want to put a shirt on." Bender says, smirking. "You know, no shoes, no shirt, no service? Though I'm glad that's not your policy," he says, throwing her her shirt. She blushes and swats at him.

"Shut up." She smiles at Brian, turning around and slipping her shirt over her head. "Let's go!"

**_A/N:_**

**_Hey guys! How are you? I hope you like the chapter. I'm going on holiday soon so I'm going to try and write a chapter before then to upload while I'm there or I'll write it on the plane but no promises. Anyway, I hope you like it and tell me what you think. Also, tell me what you want to happen. Someone asked if Brian would be coming into it - sorry, can't remember a name - and I thought now was a nice time to include him. _**

**_Have a nice day! _**

**_~ Caitlin_**


	22. Chapter 22

Cold hands wrap around a steaming mug of some unidentifiable liquid, though as she stares down into it, Allison is pretty sure she ordered hot chocolate. John wolfs down a sandwich like he hasn't eaten in a week, and Brian clutches at a stale pastry while watching his sister inspect an equally stale doughnut. Allison glances around the table and wonders if three people so different could really be friends. Her thoughts didn't last long. For the first time in a very long time, she had friends, and she had people that actually made her feel happy to be alive. She wasn't thinking about her sketchbook and she wasn't counting down the minutes until it was acceptable for her to leave. She's pulled from her thoughts by the sound of Bender's voice.

"So, you passed wood shop yet?" Bender asks indistinctly, chewing on his last mouthful of bread. Allison frowns and hits Bender lightly on his arm, glaring up at him. Brian offers up a goofy grin and shakes his head, a small awkward laugh escaping from his lips.

"I dropped it. I am passing Latin, though." Brian says, dropping his pastry on his plate and wiping his hands.

"Couldn't make a lamp but can parlez vous with Latin speaking people." Bender says incredulously, draining his can of coke and letting it slam back down on the table, making him appear much more aggressive than he ever wanted to. "Figures."

"Did you not pay any attention in French?" Allison asks Bender. "Cause you know it's not the same as Latin, right?" Bender shrugs, unwilling to learn or care, and leans back against the booth nonchalantly.

"Whatever language it is, it's not gonna help me in life. Don't need another language to do what I plan to do." Allison raises her eyebrows at Brian but neither tries to make Bender divulge that information, as neither thought they'd be able to.

The teens talk for a while longer, with Allison eagerly asking Brian if he'd finally got a date with that girl he'd been talking about all those weeks ago (he had, but it'd gone spectacularly wrong), how he was doing with school, and if he'd worked it out with his parents, while Brian cheerfully smiled the whole while and bashfully answered all of her questions with that same awkward mumble Allison had grown to love.

It's only when little Lizzie starts to yawn, her head nod-nod-nodding at the table, that Allison begins to look around, noticing the distinct lack of people and the purple tint to the sky outside. The only waitress stands at the counter, resting on her elbows and watching the old flickering TV, and the only people that keep her company are the three teenagers and the one very tired little girl.

"I'd better get going." Brian says reluctantly, helping Lizzie into her coat and to her feet. "Mom'll be angry already, I told her we wouldn't be long."

Allison nods and Bender begins to stand too, his arm wrapped around Allison's waist subconsciously. "See you in school, okay? And bye bye, Lizzie," she calls quietly, a faint giggle escaping her lips as she watches her sway in tiredness.

"Definitely," Brian says, disappearing through the doors. The little bell ringing catches the attention of the waitress and she glances at the clock.

"Closing time," she announces abruptly. "Have a nice night."

Bender raises his eyebrows and nods, "Will do." Allison simply sweeps out the door into the fresh summer evening. Everything looks more beautiful when the stars illuminate the sky, she thinks as she takes John's hand and looks up into the night, at the swirling galaxies that she couldn't even begin to comprehend. She pulls his hand and pulls him closer to her, as she twirls around, laughing. He watches her, confused, but with a softness to his eyes that only she seemed to bring out.

"Doesn't it make you feel better?" Allison asks quietly, stopping to stare into John's eyes, which always seemed full of questions and thought. John again raises his eyebrows, and looks to the sky, his hair falling in front of his eyes. Allison gently brushes the hair away and rests her head against him, looking up again.

"What?" Bender asks distractedly, breathing in the sweet smell of her familiar perfume that always made him feel at home, wherever he was in the world. He knew that when he eventually left to go home on his own, the smell that stayed on his coat would permeate every corner of his room, and that she'd be in his dreams again, not that he'd ever admit that to anyone - ever.

"Knowing that there's a whole world out there. That this isn't the only place for us to be, that we could travel the world and be out of this place tomorrow, with nothing stopping us." A smile plays at the edges of John's mouth as he hears her words, especially "us". Allison shakes her head. "Well, I do. I think it's beautiful. Maybe if we get out of this place then we won't end up like our parents. Maybe our hearts won't wither and die," she adds wistfully, in a small whisper.

John's hand rakes through Allison's messy hair as she contemplates her own shakes his head, and brings her closer to him. "We don't have to be like our parents." He says, a little more forcefully than he'd intended. He frowns as she smiles sadly. "I won't be like mine." He shakes his head again, and she looks back to the stars. He watches her, her eyes wide in awe, and thinks to himself that if he could keep her as wonder-struck and hopeful as she looked now, he'd hang the moon and the stars every night himself.

And while he looked up at the sky, he didn't notice the girl looking up at him adoringly, staring at him as if he had already done so.


	23. Chapter 23

"Summer's almost over." Allison says, tracing patterns into John's palm as they lay together on the grass. "It's almost August."

Bender shrugs, letting the warm July sunshine wash over his already tanned skin, and opens his eyes to look at her. "Never liked summer anyway." Allison frowns and sits up, her woolly black cardigan making her appear frumpy, the glare on her face adding to her weary housewife look.

"Your tan says otherwise," she says sceptically, a hint of cynicism creeping into her tone. "And so does the fact that you hate school." John touches her face gently, almost absentmindedly, and she blushes, her frown falling into a small smile. "What are you doing? Don't make me lose my train of thought."

John's lips curl into a concealed smile and he shakes his head, still lying down. "You do that all on your own."

"Not this time. Tell me – why would you hate summer?" John suddenly sits up and faces her, a sigh escaping from his mouth. The thought of summer ending terrified Allison. The thought of having to relinquish the long lazy days spent sitting on grassy banks around the river, just saying whatever she thought, spilling her secrets and silly musings, drawing whenever she wanted, whatever she wanted, and all next to John – why would she want to give up heaven?

She hated the thought of giving all of this up - seven hours stuck in a miserable building where all they cared about was extra-curricular activities and college applications made her feel sick. And then having to walk back to more misery in the form of her mother, who barely tolerated Allison as she was.

But the one thought that terrified Allison more than anything was giving up her relationship with John. The fact that he hated summer had hurt her; wasn't he loving these months as much as she was? Was she simply another picture for his wallet?

Whatever was bothering him, Allison thought, watching him light yet another cigarette, was not going to cross his lips without a fight. Giving a huff of irritation, she snatches the lit cigarette from his mouth, throwing it to the floor and balling up her fists. Finally, she sighs sadly and takes his hand again.

"I thought you were having fun," she admits quietly, not wanting to look him in the eye. It takes him a moment to process what she's saying, and he could kick himself for his thoughtlessness, not that it was a surprise to him that his mouth had gotten him into trouble. "I don't want to find out what everything will be like once summer ends." She shakes her head, her eyes glistening in the sunlight. The brown of her eyes transformed into a brown-gold abyss of emotion, lighting up with every feeling she ever had for the boy sitting in front of her. Putting her heart on the line (as opposed to wear it usually resides, her sleeve), Allison whispers, "I've never missed anyone…like I miss you when you're not here."

Bender watches her in silence, unaware of what to say to fix things. He never knew what to say when people showed emotion to him, let alone for him. What did he really want to tell her?

_I want to tell her to run. Run away from me and find someone better; someone who won't freeze up. Find someone who'll stick around. I don't deserve that – I don't deserve YOU._

Instead, he says, "August is a long way off."

She wants to scream at him. All of those times he'd smiled at her like she was the most important thing on his mind, all of those times he'd helped her when she'd fallen, all of those times when she'd felt she really connected with him in a way he never let anyone see – all seemed a fallacy now. She knew that he liked her more than he ever wanted to.

But she knew that she loved him.

"Right," Allison says, scrabbling to her feet. "I have to go."

John stands too, and catches her arm as she begins to walk away. "Don't," he says, sounding helpless. "Don't go."

Allison gives a tight lipped smile, breathing in and trying her level best for her voice not to shake. "Why not? We've got plenty of time. August is way off."

"Alley..."

"No!" Allison says forcefully, "You don't. You don't get to say that. I'm not a doll, John. You can't just play with me and put me back in the box when you're done. I know to you I'm probably just one in a long line but-" She frowns and puts her hand over her mouth, trying her best to compose herself and gather her thoughts into a semi-coherent sentence. "I just thought I meant something to you, okay? Forgive me for being stupid." She bats away his hands and his attempts to stop her fall on deaf ears as she expertly flees their peaceful meeting place.

The sunny day was now tainted with the events that had just unfolded and Bender sighs to himself. "She deserves better." He shakes his head. "But for whatever reason, she wants me…and I just blew it. Like I always do." He scrapes his hair back and curses himself. He kicks his boot into the dirt and groans in frustration. _Why do I always mess up_? He thinks miserably.

While he didn't know if he'd ever know the answer to that, Bender did know that he knew one thing: he had to get her back and prove that there was no way her face was ever going into that wallet of his.

Now he just had to find a way to convince the most stubborn girl he'd ever met of his – the most dishonest boy she'd ever known – true intentions.

_Clearly whoever had said love is an open door had never had said door slammed in their face,_ Bender thinks. A – potentially long and bloody – battle was about to begin for Bender.


	24. Chapter 24

Allison stares down at the charcoal portrait in her hands, and it trembles in her grasping fingers, as if the face staring back at her was shaking his head minutely over and over and over again. It mocked her, the face, and so in anger, it was crumpled into a tiny ball and thrown at the wall with a little thud.

John Bender's likeness now blew in the gentle wind, rolling precariously close to the water of the stream that Allison sits next to. Regretting her actions, Allison leaps for the little scrunched up ball of paper, her fingers reaching for it a millisecond too late as it splashes into the stream with a little _splash. _Allison gives a groan of frustration and kicks the riverbank, feeling no better as pebbles splash into the water and splash little droplets at her. _Why was nothing ever like she saw in the movies? _Allison thinks angrily.

Boys never swept her off of her feet in a whirlwind of romance, the prom queen never gave her fashion advice, Christmas was never presents and traditions, and her parents never told them that "she'd always be their little girl". No, nothing was ever like the movies and Allison was growing more and more tired of real life.

Bender turns the corner to the little stream at the wrong moment, and he watches Allison screaming at the world in her own little way, trying to put herself back together again after a crappy day, in her own strange ways. He didn't know how screaming at an empty field left her feeling any better, but as he caught her shoulder as she turned, he did know how hitting someone could make you feel better. Only he never really expected it from her.

"Oh, god," he says, holding his – now running with blood – nose. His voice is thick and she doesn't know if it's blood or emotion but she's horrified either way. Over his own discomfort, he hears her squeals and sobs and finds time to reassure her while simultaneously contemplating how he was going to explain this one to his dad. "It's okay, Alley, I'm not mad."

He finds himself at a loss when his words seem to have the opposite effect to what he intends and she sobs harder, through the tears managing something about prom queens and parents. "You scared me! I didn't realize it was you, I thought I was going to be attacked."

John shakes his head at her, still holding his nose and trying to stop the blood. "That's not what being attacked feels like!" After a few moments, the blood stops and Bender washes his hands off in the stream, expunging any trace of blood from his skin.

"I just wanted a perfect Christmas and to be swept off my feet," Allison cries, her voice muffled by her hand.

Confused, or concussed, he wasn't quite sure, Bender stares at Allison. "A perfect Christmas? It's August." He shakes his head. "If you want a perfect Christmas…" he says, thinking how he swore that he'd make it up to her and get her back, "Leave it to me."

Allison snorts unattractively, but he simply smiles at her. "You're not listening to me." He fails to understand how promising her something that she _just _said she wanted was "not listening to her" but he nods, exhaling deeply through his nose. "I need to go." Allison says, wiping her eyes with the back of her sleeve.

"Wait," Bender says, trying to catch her arm. She slips away, always the elusive one, and he watches her shadow disappear into the distance. "I don't understand." He says to himself, sighing and shaking his head. Still, he had made a promise and he was going to keep it. He had about thirty dollars in his pocket, and some small change, and he didn't quite know what store sold tinsel and baubles in August, but he was determined to turn her favorite place by the river, now blessed with luscious full green trees and continuously warm afternoons, into a winter wonderland.

The teenage girl at the check-out gave him a strange look as she snapped her bubble gum, turning the assortment of decorations in her hand as she scanned them. "You're either a little early or a lot late." She observes. If he was self-conscious he might have blushed; as he wasn't, he simply shrugs his shoulders and grabs the bag, throwing down the right amount of change on the counter and leaving wordlessly.

He had one last thing to pick up, and he browsed the mall, eyes scouring for the perfect present. Usually, he never bothered with Christmas presents and he sure as hell never received any, not even as a child, but he wanted to make sure that he chose something meaningful. After looking through countless stores, he decided that it was pointless. Kicking the trashcan, he cursed. "I'll never find anything," he mutters, dragging his feet along the ground and out of the mall.

He sits on an old and rusty bench just outside of town, dragging on a cigarette and thinking about what he could possibly buy her. Just as he's about to give up hope and throw the carrier bag full of decorations into the trash, he notices he's being watched. A skinny, scruffy little kitten stares up at him, mewing pathetically. When Bender makes little clicking noises with his tongue, the little kitten edges closer until Bender runs his hand down the kitten's tiny spine. As she arches her back, Bender sees every rib on her body. He scratches her behind the ears and thinks that someone could play the xylophone on her ribs.

He carefully scoops the kitten up, placing her inside his coat pocket. "A little alley cat for my Alley Cat." He laughs, brushing his thumb over the kitten's head. Going back into the mall, he picks up a collar and a bow to attach to it.

He also picks out a new wallet for himself. Looking inside his old wallet, he sees no money – that went on the cat's new collar and biscuits, plus of course the decorations – only pictures of bad memories in the form of girl's photos.

He throws the wallet into the trash can without hesitation, and puts the new, clean wallet into his back pocket.

His new start began now.

**A/N:**

**Now I know it's not Christmas in this but I couldn't help myself, so Bender is making a little mini-Christmas just for her…isn't that sweet? I hope you enjoyed this and the next chapter which hopefully will be up soon will be about Bender giving Allison her gifts and showing her the stream and all the decorations. **

**Have a merry Christmas and happy holidays if you celebrate something different, and I hope you have a nice new year too. **

**See you in 2016!**


	25. Chapter 25

Bright lights twinkle like stars in the soft light of the late summer evening, laid out like a constellation in front of the two teenagers. "Just one more step," John instructs Allison, her hand tightly gripping his in trepidation. Allison takes an unsteady step forward and he stands, smiling at her blindfolded confusion. A tiny mew sounds from the tiny kitten in Bender's pocket, and Allison's grip tightens.

"What was that?" She asks nervously, her foot digging in the dirt as she digs her nails into her palm with her free hand.

"Nothing," Bender reassures, petting the kitten to keep it quiet. "Okay," he says, his hands on her shoulders. "You can take off your blindfold." He watches her expression carefully, noticing how her hands tremble as she fiddles with the back of the blindfold. Her lip is constantly under her front tooth, a bad habit from childhood she'd never bothered to crack, and he smiles at her apprehension. Mainly, because he thought of a couple of weeks ago, when she'd have rather attempted to kiss the front of a moving train than let him lead her somewhere blindfolded.

When the blindfold falls to the floor, her gasp is the only sound. Her mouth opens and closes a few times as she fails to comprehend what happened to her beautiful haven, now turned into something more beautiful and if possible, something that held even more comfort and sentimental value to her. Twinkling fairy lights shined in the tears welling her in brown eyes, and baubles hung in abundance in the trees. The river, flowing leisurely, showed a wobbly reflection of the wonderland he'd created and she barely knew where to look.

A smile settles on her features as her eyes swivel around, taking in the decadence of all of her lost perfect Christmases as a little girl that were displayed in front of her. Bad memories resurfaced, of course, of not feeling good enough for her parents, but in that moment, it felt as if those memories that had torn her apart for all of those years were the basis of one of the happiest moments in her life. "Oh, John," she breathes, her words a stunned whisper. "It's…perfect."

"Your present," Bender offers to her, holding out the tiny animal, a red ribbon tied loosely around the kitten's neck. Allison's heart soars as she gingerly holds out her hands and takes the tiny ball of fur between her fingers. "A little Alley-Cat." Bender smiles at her.

"She's adorable," Allison coos, nuzzling the cat to her own face. She smiles, looking to her feet sheepishly. "I always wanted a cat."

"Why?" Bender asks, though he too could see the appeal of always having a companion by your side who stuck with you even if you messed up. He guides Allison to sit down by the river, and the two teenagers sit closely together, kicking off their shoes and letting their feet dangle into the water. He puts his arm around her cautiously and she smiles, leaning into him.

"Because there's nothing more comforting than having a sidekick. Look at her, she'll love you for just being you. And she's just too cute. I was alone a lot as a child." Allison then frowns, looking contemplative. Bender tilts his head, a prompt for her to tell him what was wrong. "How am I gonna keep her?" Allison wonders. "She can't come home with me. My mother would have more kittens!"

"She can stay at my house," Bender assures her, "My dad didn't notice me growing up; how's he going to notice a little stray cat?"

"She's not a stray anymore." Allison corrects, trying hard not to imagine John's sad childhood in an attempt not to spoil this perfect night. "She's got us."

"But has she got a name?"

"How about Midnight?" Allison murmurs, entwining her hand into John's. John smiles down at Allison, unable to hide his content. "Because that's when we met."

"Was it?" Bender replies, impressed. He flexes his muscles and winks at her. "The time I became your hero. Put it in the history books."

"So the next generation can scribble over your face and laugh about your name, like our generation did to all of the people written in the textbooks?" Allison teases. "I'll tell my children to watch out for you."

"I'm sure you'll tell your children everything about me." Bender says confidently, splashing her with some of the water. Allison smacks his arm playfully and frowns at him.

"Hey, it's cold out here." Allison protests. Bender pulls her closer, ignoring her feeble protests, and laughs.

"Then you'll just have to sit closer, won't you?" Bender teases, looking to the clouds above them. The sky was turning into a cotton candy canvas and Bender wondered if he'd ever feel this peaceful ever again. Allison, one of her hands absentmindedly running down Midnight's back, one still entwined with John's, has similar thoughts running through her mind. "It doesn't matter that summer's almost over, you know." He reassures her. Allison looks up at him, her expression unconvinced.

"What happens after summer?" She whispers, her voice barely audible. "What happens at school?" Allison almost doesn't want to hear the answer, but John looks at her, still feeling confident. He smiles.

"I try and fill up my empty wallet," he laughs, "I spent my last dime on that cat's collar." He opens out his wallet and shows her, and she smiles at him.

"You got a new wallet," she murmurs, the approval evident in her tone. Bender nods proudly.

"Not the only thing I got," he tells her. "Don't worry about school. I'm not going back. I got a job."

"You got a job?" She echoes, unable to comprehend.

"Yeah. Good pay, too. I'm gonna move out of my parents' house. Can't stay there any longer."

"What about me?" Allison whispers, her brow creasing. Bender smiles.

"You'll just have to house train your cat." He laughs. "And pack your bags. Come with me, Ally. This is our chance. What do you say?"

**A/N:**

**Happy 2016! I hope you've been having a fabulous new year…can't talk much because I'm about to have dinner but I hope you enjoy this chapter :)**


	26. Chapter 26

Allison's head spins as she considers his generous offer. The sensible side of her screamed at her to say, "No!" and to run away as fast as humanly possible, while the wild, dreamer side of her fell in love with the offer before she got to see the risks, and imagined fluffy carpets any shade she wanted, and her own key, and never having to explain why she was in the kitchen at 2am when she couldn't – or didn't want to – sleep.

"What do you say?" John repeats, as she shakes her head in a tornado of thoughts that she just wanted to stop so she could think properly about his offer. "You can choose the sheets." He teases.

Allison smiles weakly at him. "A double bed, then?" John puts his arm around her, pulling her close to him.

"That's what it comes with. Come on," John smiles, "I'll show you. Here, I've got the key." He passes the little silver key to her, and on the way there, she grips it so tightly that the ridges make tiny cuts into her pale skin. As they approach the building, John stops and looks up at it. "Well, this is home." He laughs. Midnight mews pathetically from Bender's coat pocket, and Allison picks her up, now holding two very precious things.

With no elevator, the pair of teens make small talk on the way up three flights of stairs. "I don't know if it'll be what you're used to." Bender warns her, as they ascend on the second flight, "I know you live in Richville."

Allison scoffs. "In my house, everything is fake. It's not a home if you can't touch the dining table and the carpets have never been stepped on." She pauses. "And besides, it's not a home. It's a living hell. A cardboard box would have been cosier growing up."

"Okay," Bender says, opening the door, and from the expression on his face and the tone of his voice, Allison knows he doesn't believe her. She's not even sure she believes herself, and, as the door opens, her previous bravado falters. "Home sweet home." Bender whistles, his tone sounding impressed, though Allison is not sure _why. _

A pile of fliers has built up at the door and Bender kicks them away like a child would do to a pile of leaves. Allison steps over the door carefully, and takes in her surroundings. She bites her lip as she looks around at the tattered furniture and ratty carpets. "A lick of paint…and a new everything…" Allison murmurs, "This is what this place needs."

Bender laughs at her dainty steps over the dirty carpet. "We'll fix it up. Make it our own." He smiles, shaking his head. "Don't worry. Everything will come together after I get my paycheck. I mean, it might take a few but…"

"How?" Allison despairs. "We have no money, no furniture…this place is filthy." All of her dreams that she had built up on the way there crumbled at her feet, now laying with the piles of fliers and leaflets. She wanted to kick both of them out of her sight and to curl up on the filthy floor in despair, though it was so repulsive to her that she didn't even want the bottom of her shoes touching it.

"We'll clean it up. Get Brian over, he'll help. Make it pretty, if that's what you want." Though he tries hard to not let it show, the desperation begins to creep into his voice. "Look," he says, pointing at Midnight, who had already curled up on the sagging sofa in the corner of the room. "She's at home already."

Allison's face melts into a softer expression as she stares at the kitten, all cosy on the sofa. "She looks so sweet." Allison kneels carefully next to the cat, trying to not think of what else has been on the floor beforehand. The effort is obvious on her face, and Bender pulls her up, pulling her close to him, so that her shoulder nestled comfortably into the denim of his warm jacket.

"I'm sure you'd look just as sweet there." Bender teases her. Allison raises her eyebrows, an unimpressed stare forming on her face as she looks are around the room once again.

"Maybe so, but I'm not sitting there until it's been fumigated, or, better still, replaced." Bender nods, accepting of her terms. Unashamedly not caring one single bit about the state of the sofa, he sits down.

"Fair enough." He pauses, and takes her hand. "So you want a new couch, what else?" He asks, as Allison considers.

"Hmm…" she says, glancing around. "New curtains. Pretty ones. A new carpet. And, all above-board!" She adds, sounding serious. "I don't mind getting my hands dirty, I'll help lay a carpet or move a sofa but I'm not staining my criminal record." She frowns at him, and he knows she's serious. Still, he can't help messing with her, a smile hidden by his "couldn't care less" mask.

"It's like a stain on a shirt," Bender shrugs, winking at her, "People only notice once you point it out. And I stopped pointing mine out a long time ago."

"I don't want anything illegal in here," Allison protests, "If it's going to be a nice home for us both then it has to be a safe place, okay?" She confirms. "Safe places aren't somewhere you're too afraid to open the door in case it's the police."

"Fine," Bender relents. He smiles down at her, waiting for her response, good or bad. "So…" he laughs, spinning her around, "If we get a new couch, new curtains, and nothing illegal…it's a yes?" He asks, looking somewhat hopeful.

And before she can stop herself, or think that it _might _be a bad idea, the "yes" is spilling from her giggling mouth, and their lips lock together.

"Now at least you don't have to get detention to spend breakfast with me," Bender jokes.

"Oh, you've got me figured out, haven't you?"

"Not yet," he admits, smiling, "But now, we've got time."


End file.
